


Family Ties

by Marwana



Series: Ties [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-18 01:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 88,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marwana/pseuds/Marwana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sirius told Harry that all pure-blood families were interrelated, he wondered if he had other living family members, besides the Dursley's,who were close enough related to fall under the blood protection, hoping that once he found them that he could legally live with that family and leave the Dursley's forever. What he found changes everything, for both him and the war...Dark Fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All the rights belong to the original owner.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Lemon at the beginning of this chapter, character (OC) death.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sirius told Harry that all pure-blood families were interrelated, he wondered if he had other living family members, besides the Dursley's,who were close enough related to fall under the blood protection, hoping that once he found them that he could legally live with that family and leave the Dursley's forever. What he found changes everything, for both him and the war...Dark Fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All the rights belong to the original owner.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Lemon at the beginning of this chapter, character (OC) death.

**Family ties**

**Prologue**

**oOoOoOo  
  
** "Oh Medusa, harder," the woman moaned breathlessly as she spread her legs even wider. She moved her head slightly so her neck was completely bared to his questing lips. He smirked smugly against the slick skin of her neck but did as she ordered and sped up his thrusts while sucking harshly at the skin on the base of her neck, leaving a dark purple mark which proclaimed her as his.  
  
"I could spend a lot more time with you if you just agreed to ally yourself with me," the man whispered huskily in her ear after he was satisfied with his mark on her neck, "You don't even have to fight in the war, I'll protect you, just come with me." She whimpered in pleasure as he slowly licked a wet trail on the shell of her ear before he started to suck softly on her earlobe. "Just say that you'll stay with me," the man whispered softly, feeling the tightening in his lions, "just say the words." **  
  
**The woman gave another breathless moan and she nodded her head vigorously only to moan harder as he moved slightly to dive deeper into her warmth, his thrusts still slow and smooth. "Just say it," the man said huskily, "just say the words." **  
  
**"I-I'll s-stay with you," the woman moaned loudly, "please h-harder!" **  
  
**She made a keening noise as he sped up once again, only stopping when both had reached their peak and climaxed. **  
  
**Slowly, they came back from their high and the man softly placed butterfly kisses on the woman's jaw, until he reached her ear once more. "I'll keep you to your word, my love," he whispered softly but possessively, "Now sleep." **  
  
**The woman nodded sleepily and snuggled closer into his side. His arm came to rest around her waist and his hand rose up to softly stroke her hair. She slowly fell asleep under his ministrations. **  
  
**"I'll always keep you safe. You are mine after all," the man whispered with dark amusement, "My pretty little Lamia." And he pressed one last kiss on the delectable and bruised lips of the woman before he too succumbed into the long arms of Morpheus. **  
  
oOoOoOo  
  
Three months later.  
  
** "My Lord, My Lord," The woman rushed into his study and stopped before him breathlessly but with gleaming, happy eyes and a big smile which revealed the slightly sharper and longer than normal canines she normally hid. **  
  
**"What can I do for you, my love?" The man asked and he smiled gently towards her. He laid down the quill he had been using and ignored his work in favour of the one woman he truly cared about. **  
  
**He couldn't say that he actually loved her - because he didn't know what love felt like - but he knew that if he was ever capable of loving he would love this woman, and only this one woman. **  
  
**"I've a surprise for you," the woman said with a bright smile that lit up her entire face, "Come on!" And she rushed towards him to pull him up from his chair - and away from his work - to come with her. **  
  
**He laughed lightly, happily, but he allowed the woman to have her way and followed her out of his study and into their personal chambers, where he was deposited on the bed. She immediately followed him and straddled his thighs, leaning down to kiss him softly. "Not that this isn't nice," the man drawled, his hands moving up to rest themselves on her hips to keep her in place, "but sadly enough I do have work to do so I can't rest." **  
  
**The woman pouted briefly at him before her happy smile appeared again and she said: "remember how I kept throwing up every morning?" **  
  
**The man nodded and his eyes lit up with concern. He asked in a voice filled with worry: "Please tell me it's over. I would absolutely detest it if you-" **  
**The woman softly shushed him and placed one elegant finger on his lips to silence him. Her eyes pleaded for him to remain silent and his eyes softened before he placed a gentle kiss on the finger pressed against his lips. She took a deep breath before she blurted out happily: "I'm pregnant!" **  
  
**His eyes widened and he opened and closed his mouth - in a quiet believable imitation of a fish - in shock. "What?" he finally managed to say weakly, his eyes still wide in shock. **  
**"I-I'm pregnant," the woman whispered weakly, her smile dimmed until it disappeared. She huddled into herself and tried to slip off of his lap but the hands on her hips stopped her. Her eyes shot up to meet his and he carefully sat up as his arms slid around her waist, keeping her safely, but firmly, seated in his lap. **  
  
**"Don't think for even a second that I'm not happy with you. Or the fact that you're pregnant," he said hoarsely, her smile came back full force and she happily pushed her lips against his in an affectionate kiss, "How long?" **  
**"Nine weeks," the woman whispered softly and she snuggled into his chest. One of his hands moved from her waist to her chin and he lifted her head to place a soft kiss on her mouth. **  
  
**"You gave me the one thing I've always wanted," he continued still hoarsely, once his lips were free again, "a family to call my own." **  
**The woman laughed happily and kissed him once more, more heatedly this time. "Let's celebrate shall we," she whispered seductive and she kissed him again. He pulled away slightly and smirked lightly at her, his hands slowly moving lower until they rested on her behind. **  
  
**"I do believe that that calls for a celebration," the man agreed and he flipped her until she lay underneath him, "I guess I won't finish my work after all." **  
  
**And he dived in. **  
  
oOoOoOo  
  
Six months later  
  
** "Her water's broke!" came a shout and a slightly plump, black haired woman came running out of the room, her hands and forearms covered in blood. Painful cries and moans could be heard from the room she had just left.   
"Someone notify the Lord," she shouted and one of the men - all of them a bit pale due to their fear of her husband and the amount of blood the pregnant woman had already lost - whom had been leaning against the wall just outside the room pushed himself up and rushed away. **  
  
**The midwife turned back towards the room and entered it, all the while muttering to herself: "It's too early, it's too early!" **  
**The woman on the bed didn't even look up when the other woman placed her hand on her swollen belly but she did hear the next words that came out of her mouth, "Come on honey, push."  
She gave another painful cry but did as she was told. **  
  
**A harsh thud and soft whimpers of fear sounded from outside the room and dark, oppressive magic could be felt even before the man came walking in, his steps brisk and hastened but somehow still elegant. The plump woman gave a quick - but still polite - nod towards the man but quickly returned her gaze towards the woman laying on the bed, surrounded by her own blood and drenched in sweat and blood. **  
  
**"How is she," he asked softly but the midwife ignored his question in favour of the woman on the bed whom had given a pained cry. **  
**"Come on honey, a couple more pushes," she cooed and she moved her hands towards the woman's opening were the head of the baby, covered in the juices of birth fluid and its mother's blood, could be seen. A low growl emitted from the man's throat but she once again ignored him, this time in favour of the child. **  
  
**"How is she," the man repeated, his voice threatening. **  
**The midwife kept her attention on the woman laying on the bed but said softly: "Not well My Lord. The child, it's too early and your wife…"  
She trailed off and gulped before she continued: "She might not make it." **  
  
**The man closed his eyes briefly in pain before they sprung open again to stare at the woman laying on the bed, his red eyes showing his concern and the determination to keep her alive. "What can be done?" he asked, growling low. **  
**"Nothing, My Lord," the plump woman said softly, carefully washing the small head that had appeared in an attempt to make sure that the child's nose and mouth were clean. She turned back to the woman, cooing "Come on honey, just a bit more. You already survived the hardest part!" **  
  
**"What do you mean 'nothing'," the man barked. **  
**"She has already lost too much blood, My Lord, and the tear is too large to close," the woman said softly, "We can't help her anymore. The only thing we can do - You're doing a great job honey. Keep it up! - is hope that the baby will live." **  
  
**The man closed his eyes again - this time for a slightly longer period - before he opened them to stare at his wife. He walked towards her and sat down on the bed next to her - not caring about the blood that slowly seeped into his clothing. He carefully took her hand into his.  
Her eyes, crazed with the pain and misty with blood loss, shot open to meet his and recognition flashed into her eyes. A small, painful smile made its way on his face, only to disappear again when her eyes closed in pain, an aching cry left her throat as she gave one last painful push that made the child leave her body entirely.   
  
The plump woman immediately cut the umbilical cord and cleaned the baby, before she turned back to the woman, softly patting the baby's back to get it to breathe on its own. Suddenly the baby made a gulping, choking noise before it started to cry and the midwife sighed in relief, even as she looked at the woman on the bed with obvious sadness. **  
  
**"It's a girl!" the midwife said cheerfully in an attempt to get the woman to go on. She swaddled the baby quickly into the blanket before she turned back to the exhausted and dying woman in the bed. **  
**  
"B-baby?," she whispered, "s-see baby?" **  
**The man nodded and took the baby from the midwife - who bowed as soon as she had released the baby and left - to show it to his wife, his eyes only on his wife. **  
**  
"M-my b-beautiful F-Firel-lily," the dying woman said softly. Her hand raised slightly to touch the baby's cheek and she smiled sadly, "T-take c-care of h-her?" **  
**"Always," the man promised softly. The woman on the bed gave him one last smile before she breathed out her last breath and her hand dropped down on the bed. **  
  
**The man stared at his once beautiful and lively - but now dead - wife, his red eyes showing his pain and anger towards the injustice of it all. It didn't take long before his anger overwhelmed him and he gave a loud roar of anger, which could be heard in the entire manor. His magic reacted to his fierce emotions, breaking every single window, mirror or glass in the entire manor. **  
  
**The baby - who had stopped crying when she had felt the sombre mood that had hung in the room since her mother had died - started to wail again and the man turned his attention towards her. He had to admit that she was pretty cute, or as cute as a new-born could be. She had emerald green eyes - a couple of shades lighter than his own had been before magic had turned them red - which were now scrunched together due to her crying, a small tuff of hair which seemed to be fiery red - the same colour hair as his wife's hair had been - and her skin was as pale as his was. She was truly precious and he knew that she would be as beautiful as her mother had been at that age. **  
  
**That thought hurt more than he would like to admit. **  
  
oOoOoOo  
  
Two days later  
  
** "I know that I promised to take care of you," he muttered softly to the sleeping baby, "but I can't. Not like this, not with this war."  
His war, the war he had worked on so hard to win with his wife. He used to care for two things in his life: his beloved and the war to change the Wizarding World. Now he couldn’t seem to care about either.  
 **  
**He closed his eyes briefly for the umpteenth time since his now deceased wife had given birth before he opened them again. He adjusted the baby in his arm and knocked on the door. **  
**"Coming, coming!" someone called and the sounds of someone hurriedly approaching the door could be heard. The door was opened to admit a healthy woman with a small girl in her arms, the girl had to be around a year old. "Can I help you?" she asked, slightly breathlessly. **  
**  
"I noticed your advertise in the newspaper," the man said smoothly, moving the small child he had in his arms, "the one in which you ask to adopt a child." **  
**"Er… yes?" the woman said slightly flustered. **  
  
**"I wonder if you could raise this child," the man continued softly and he had to close his eyes briefly before he could continue, "She is two days old, her mother died while giving birth and I'm not able to raise her myself." **  
**"You want me to raise your child?" the woman asked surprised and suspicious, "how can I know that you didn't steal her from someone else?" **  
**The man's glamoured eyes flashed red before he calmed himself and he said wryly: "Why would anyone steal a baby only to give it away?" **  
  
**The woman nodded in agreement. "But why me? Why a complete stranger?" the woman asked, "Don't you have family members or friends that could raise her?" **  
**The man shook his head before he said: "I've no one now that my wife has died." **  
  
**The woman nodded and gestured for the baby. He briefly hesitated before he handed her to the woman. "Are you sure?" she asked and he nodded. "We'll raise her like our own," the woman promised gravely. **  
**"I know you will," the man said and he raised his wand. ****  
  
" _Obliviate_."


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.
> 
> Warnings: None at all (for this chapter at least...)

**Family ties**

**Chapter 1**

**Parts of this chapter are taken from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.**

**oOoOoOo**

Harry closed his eyes and let the shaky movements of the train fade away as he remembered the words Sirius had said just days ago.   
"The pureblood families are all interrelated," he had told him wryly after Harry had mentioned that the Blacks were related to the Malfoys. "Arthur is something like my second cousin once removed. And even Prongs was related to me, distantly as it was. His grandmother was my grandfather's sister."  
  
He couldn't help but wonder if he had any other magical family members left. Maybe there was someone who was closely related to him, closely enough that they might be willing to take him in. Everyone was better than the Dursleys.   
Okay, maybe not everyone - he'd rather not end up with the Malfoys - but he could still hope. It really was a shame that Sirius was a sought-after criminal; he would have loved to live with him.  
  
His mind flickered to the possibility that he too was related to the Weasleys. Or, with a bit of luck, he could be related to Neville. At least he knew those families. But he wouldn't mind being related to someone else, as long as they would actually care for him. Knowing his luck though, he would end up closely related to the Malfoys or the Lestranges.  
  
Of course, he could always check the library when he had some free time. Just to see if he could find a spell or a potion that would show him his genealogy. The library just had to have something, right? Maybe he could even ask Hermione if she could help him...  
  
He quickly shook those thoughts away and concentrated on the images of his friends and, hopefully, the same persons he could stay with until he was old enough to get his own place.  
  
He sighed lightly and opened his eyes when the door of his compartment opened to show Neville.   
"Can I sit with you?" He asked and Harry nodded.   
"Where are Ron and Hermione?" Neville asked curious after he had placed his trunk in the compartment and had sat down on the seat opposite of Harry.  
  
"Prefect meeting," Harry answered, "How was your holiday?"

"It was nice enough," Neville said dismissively before he suddenly perked up enthusiastically, "Look, I got a new plant from my great-uncle Algie as a birthday present!"  
  
He happily started to dig around in his bag before he brought out a small, grey, almost cactus like plant that was covered with small boils instead of spines or needles.   
"It is called a Mimbulus Mimbletonia and it is native to Assyria. It is incredibly rare!" Neville explained, his voice and eyes showing his enthusiasm, "I'm going to show it to professor Sprout, maybe she can help me breed it!"  
  
"That is nice," Harry said, he decided that anything was better than being left alone with his thoughts so he asked, "What does it do?"  
"It has a great defence mechanism," Neville said and he smiled bright at the plant, "Want to see?"  
"Err... an explanation is good enough for me," Harry said apologetic, "no offence, but I just ate."  
Neville visible sagged before he started to explain how the defense mechanism worked and why it was so special.  
  
Harry lost himself in the thoughts he had been lost in before Neville had arrived five minutes after Neville had started his explanations.  
  
 **oOo**  
  
It was hours later that the train finally reached its destination and they still hadn't seen a single hair of the two new Gryffindor prefects.  
  
Harry and Neville waited together for a bit but in the end they just joined Ginny and a dirty blond haired girl with wide silvery blue eyes - who introduced herself as Luna Lovegood and who seemed to be quite... interested in Harry if her constant gazing him at was an indication - in one of the carriages so they could get to Hogwarts.  
  
And that was where they finally saw Ron and Hermione.  
Both were out of breath - like they had just run the entire way from the Hogwarts Express to the castle - and both were slightly red in their face. They stood close to one another and their hands seemed to brush a lot more than was normal for friends.  
  
"Where have you two been?" Harry asked peeved.  
"Err... the prefect meeting took more time than we had expected," Hermione said quickly.  
"Okay," Harry trailed off suspiciously as he took in the rumpled state of their clothing and hair and the -   
"Is that a hickey?" Harry asked incredulous. Hermione's hand came up and she blushed a bright red when she touched her neck, shielding the mark.  
  
Neville moved from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable, Ginny looked surprised and Luna just gazed serenely at them.  
"Err...," Ron said but he trailed off when he saw the hurt look Harry was sporting.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry said softly.  
"I... We... It was kind of an accident, really!" Ron quickly and loudly defended himself, drawing the attention from the rest of the Hall.  
  
"Maybe we should continue this discussion once we are in the Great Hall?" Hermione asked nervous. Harry shot her a look but nodded and together they waited - the silence awkward - until the door finally opened.  
  
 **oOo**  
  
The sorting had just ended and Dumbledore stood. Harry had missed the entire sorting - only applauding when the rest of the table did - and he was only paying attention now because Hermione had poked him.  
  
"Welcome new students and old students," he started, "I would like to introduce our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Madam Dolores Umbridge!" A pallid toad faced woman with prominent, pouchy eyes stood and the students applauded politely. She was dressed completely in pink and she had a fat bow on her head.  
  
Harry couldn't help the gasp that escaped him and Ron asked: "Do you know her?"  
Harry started at him for a couple of seconds before he responded.   
"She was there during my trail! She is a lackey of Fudge," Harry whispered urgently.  
Hermione looked interesting and turned towards the woman before she said: "She works for Fudge? Then what on earth is she doing here?"  
"Dunno..." Harry responded.  
  
"And, since Professor Hagrid is on a temporary leave, we are pleased to welcome back professor Grubbly-Plank who will take over Care of Magical creatures until Hagrid is back," Dumbledore continued, "Now, tuck in..."  
  
A weird 'hem hem' sounded and Dumbledore turned towards Umbridge, who was once again standing.   
Everyone stared at her surprised and she produced another 'hem hem' sound, which shook most people out of their shock.   
Dumbledore sat back down politely before he turned his full attention on the toad like woman. The other teachers looked weirdly at her and some of the students smirked amused.  
  
"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome." Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish and, again, Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike that he could not explain to himself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan.  
  
She gave another little throat-clearing cough – and it was clear from the faces of the students that ‘hem-hem’ sound was really starting to annoy them – and continued. "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth.   
"And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!" Harry snorted softly and glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were toddlers.   
"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all-"  
  
Harry decided that he had heard enough and let his attention drift away to his two best friends, who were apparently a couple now. He wondered why they hadn't told him, before he remembered Ginny's surprised expression and Ron words: "it was kind of an accident, really!".   
And he decided that he would wait until they had explained everything before he would make any decision.  
  
"Thank you Madam Umbridge, that was very illuminating," Harry heard Dumbledore say and he shook his head to clear it.  
"Oh that was illuminating, all right," Hermione snorted lowly.  
"You think? I grew up with Percy and I have to say that that was the dullest speech I've ever heard!" Ron said quietly.  
"It explained a lot though," Hermione said, "Did you hear what she said?"  
"Er, not really," Harry admitted.  
"Well, How about: 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged'? Or How about: 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Ah, what does that mean?" Ron asked.  
"The Ministry is going to interfere with Hogwarts, aren't they?" Harry said softly and Hermione looked surprised.  
"Yes they are," she answered eventually.  
  
A lot of noise sounded around them and they quickly turned their attention back on the table, where food had appeared, and they quickly dug in.  
  
 **oOoOoOo**  
  
"Do you think Draco has everything?" A woman's concerned voice floated towards him through the slightly opened door. He turned slightly towards it and he placed his quill down.   
He ignored the rest his paperwork for the time being in favour of listening to the conversation.   
  
"Do you think he needs more candy? Or warmer clothes?"  
"He is fine Cissa," Lucius' voice sounded soothingly, "he has been fine the last couple of years, hasn't he? So he will be fine now. We have raised him well after all."  
  
The woman, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, laughed softly before asking something else but he couldn't hear what she had said and the voices slowly died down as their owners passed his study.  
  
The conversation he had caught reminded him so much of his dead wife. The way she spoke of children and animals, always wondering if they would be fine or if they needed help.   
He closed his eyes briefly and rubbed his temples, willing his headache and growing insanity away. The skin of his hands rasping against the skin of his head made it sound like sandpaper which only caused his headache to intensify, so he quickly stopped rubbing.  
  
His sanity had always been waning, but the use of Horcruxes had left him with little sanity and a body that appeared more snake-like then human. Sometimes, he truly regretted making them.   
But he had no reason left to ever feel enough remorse to absorb the parts of his soul that they contained; the parts that could restore his sanity and his body and probably help him win this war.  
  
Sadly enough, his lack of sanity did mean that he spent most of the day as an insane psychopath.  
  
The rare hours he spent sane were mostly used for the planning of raids or attacks. Always just planning long-term plans he could hand to the few capable men he had. It was either that or thinking about his beloved dead wife - sometimes with hatred and sometimes with fondness - and the family they could have had. He still thought of her occasionally but those moments were rare and he made sure to push the memories as far away as he could.  
  
He had wondered often what had happened to his daughter - when he remembered her that was - but he couldn't remember what she looked like or to whom he had given her. He couldn't even remember her name. And a potion would only show his family tree up until his birth, not his descendants nor his wife. He wondered if she had ever married and if she had children. He would have liked it if he had an heir.  
  
A boy he could teach and train, one he could enjoy the finer humour of the snakes with.  
  
He slowly felt the last of his sanity for that day drip away and he quickly stood from his chair behind his desk. He power walked - a dark lord would never run after all - out of his study and quickly locked his door with a couple of wards he could only disable when he was sane.  
  
He was barely done when he felt the last of his sanity slip away to make place for the all-consuming insanity and a monster rose in the place were just a moment ago had stood a powerful and proud - but broken - Dark Lord.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: not mine.
> 
> No warnings for this chapter.

**Family Ties  
  
Chapter 2  
**  
 **oOoOoOo  
**  
Harry shot another wishful look at the common room entrance, hoping that his friends would enter soon and relieve him of his loneliness and his boredom.  
  
It had been almost two weeks since the new school year had started and almost two weeks since they had started dating. The how and why had been explained to him the day after the feast and he had forgiven them readily when he found out that they had accidentally kissed because the train had made an unexpected turn.   
It had just taken those two weeks and an – maybe – unfortunate turn of the train for the seemingly inseparable trio to become one couple and one third wheel.  
  
Harry had started to hang out more with some of the other boys in his year but Neville was almost always busy with his plants and Dean and Seamus, who had been close for years, always did everything together. Making Harry, once again, the third wheel.  
And, since the only thing they did when he talked to them was giggling, he didn’t really hang out with the girls in his year.  
  
Harry sighed again and turned back to his DADA book. It was the last bit of homework he had to finish and he was almost done. Something he was glad about since the assigned book was dreadful and boring, just like the teacher.   
Luckily, he hadn’t mentioned Voldemort and his return even once – even though he wanted to tell the vile toad-woman that Voldemort _had_ , in fact, returned – as even _he_ could see that she was baiting him.   
So he used the same tactic he had just on the primary school: she just wasn’t there unless she asked him a reasonable question about the learning material.  
  
It was almost half an hour later that he was finally finished with the chapter and he still hadn’t seen his two best friends. He wondered briefly what could make them late, but the answer came immediately and he shook his head to get rid of the images that those thoughts had conjured.  
  
The thoughts that had plagued his mind since his conversation with Sirius came back and he once again wondered how it would feel to have a family of his own. A family that would actually care about him.   
Or how it would feel to have siblings to play or banter with. Hell, he would even take the inevitable fights if it meant he had someone who would love him unconditionally like a parent should.  
  
He shook his head to dislodge those thoughts as well and decided that since his friends weren’t here he could spend the time he normally spends with them in the library. He might as well start looking for a potion or a spell that could show him his family tree.  
  
Harry turned to look at the clock and noticed that it was almost an hour before the curfew. He quickly rose and dumped his books in the dormitory, after which he left the common room.  
It took him ten minutes – and a lot of shortcuts to keep away from anyone he didn’t want to see – before he reached the library.  
  
He nodded politely towards Madam Pince and went towards the potion section of the library, praying it had at least something he could start with.  
  
Half an hour later – when the library closed and he was kicked out – he still hadn’t found what he was looking for.  
  
 **oOo  
**  
  
It was a week later – a week in which he had spent quite some time in the library – that Harry finally found something useful.  
  
He hadn’t seen much of his friends in that week and – even though he didn’t resent them for the fact that they were together – he started to get lonely and withdrawn. Not that anyone noticed that little fact.  
  
In the last week he had thrown himself on his schoolwork and his research in the library, so he would just forget everything around him. But it didn’t exactly work the way he hoped it would and he still missed his best friends.  
  
He looked back at the page of the obvious ancient book in front of him and carefully reread the part about potions and ancestry.  
It only stated two things.   
1) he needed a potion which was considered dark by the Ministry – as it asked for the use of one’s blood – and was therefore not included in that particular book.   
And 2) he needed a spell which was to be cast after he had dropped some of his blood into the potion and which too needed some of his blood to work. Therefore both were considered dark and thus illegal according to the Ministry rules.  
Besides that, the potion probably needed rare ingredients which the school most likely didn’t have.  
  
He sighed and slammed the book shut which caused a large dust cloud to appear and Harry sneezed loudly. He quickly shot a look at Madam Pince but she hadn’t notice his ‘lack of respect for those poor books’ so he gave a relieved sigh.  
He sighed again as he put the book away. He briefly looked around wondering if he should look in other parts of the library, like the charms section.  
  
He quickly cast a Tempus and noticed that he still had little over half an hour before his next lesson – DADA with the toad-woman – would begin.  
He wondered what she would try today to get him to react and to defend his statement of the return of Voldemort. He had managed to restrain his temper the past few weeks and ignore her but he knew that she would find something eventually.  
  
He shot one last look at the book he had found earlier and decided that he would just try the charms section. Because even if he didn’t find anything he could use to see if he had some life family left, he would learn new things.   
After all he learned some new things when he was browsing the potion section. Not that it had helped him in the potion lessons with _Snape_.  
  
 **oOo**  
  
“Did you read this chapter?” Hermione whispered softly from her spot next to him. It was almost thirty minutes into the lesson and they had still thirty minutes more to go.   
“It is so completely biased! I don’t think that the writer has ever used one of those spells he mentioned in this chapter in his _life_!” Hermione muttered something else but it was too soft to be heard.  
  
“Is something the matter, miss Granger?” the sugary tone from Umbridge came from somewhere besides Harry and he ground his teeth softly together to not blurt something out.  
Hermione shook her head and Umbridge turned towards Harry.  
  
“Problems, mister Potter?” She asked him, her teeth bared a bit too much.  
“No problems, professor,” he told her through clenched teeth.  
“Good,” she gave a sickly sweet and obvious fake smile and left to talk to some of the Slytherins – whom had welcomed her readily after they had noticed that she seemed to dislike Harry – on the other side of the classroom.  
  
The rest of that lesson continued like this. But while it was boring and completely useless Harry was just glad that she hadn’t tried anything that lesson.  
  
 **oOo**  
  
“She is completely useless,” Hermione grumbled for the fifth time in twenty minutes. The three of them were having dinner together for the first time in a couple of days and Harry was enjoying every minute of it. Though, he could have done without Hermione _nagging_ about that toad Umbridge.  
  
“Not only does she, and the rest of the Ministry, keep denying that You-Know-Who has returned, but she doesn’t even teach us anything useful! And it _is_ our _OWL year_!”  
  
Ron swallowed his food – something he had never done before he and Hermione had gotten together – before he said: “We know, love. But it is not like _we_ can do something about it. Hey Harry, do you think we’ll win the Quidditch Cup this year?”  
Hermione rolled her eyes sky-wards but a fond smile made itself known on her lips.  
“If our new players will be any good,” Harry said after a couple of seconds, “If they are, yeah probably.”  
  
Ron, who had just taken another bite of his chicken, grinned at Harry – showing way too much of said chicken – but Harry just smiled back.  
  
 **oOo  
**  
Later that night Harry wondered how long it would take before his best friends would completely forget about him. He knew that his thoughts were pessimistic but he had had people – who he had considered his friends or playmates – turn on him before.  
  
In the end he fell asleep, far after midnight and far after everyone else had gone to sleep. But even his sleep wasn’t peaceful.  
  
 **oOoOoOo**  
  
A knock sounded on the door and he waved his wand hand – which caused the door the open with a soft click – without looking up from his paperwork.  
  
Soft footsteps entered his study and he heard the door close before the footsteps came closer. He heard the soft rustling of fabrics as someone kneeled down.  
“My Lord,” Lucius’ voice came from somewhere on the ground before his desk.  
“Rissse Luciusss,” He hissed softly and he placed his quill back down. He didn’t have to talk with a lisp – nor did he have to elongate his s – but it caused fear in everyone who heard it. And that amused him.  
  
Lucius climbed on his feet and stood proudly – as straight and graceful as any other pureblood – in front of his desk.  
Voldemort gestured towards one of the chairs in front of his desk and Lucius sat down.  
  
“Tell me Luciusss, is there news from Hogwarts?” He hissed softly, curiosity colouring his voice – not that anyone besides Nagini would have caught it, “or the Ministry?”  
“My son wrote a letter back today with the report of last week, Mcnair has given me the report of his work in the Ministry, so has Rookwood for that matter. My Lord, if I may be so bold, how did he get in after he was caught as a Death Eater?” Lucius asked cautiously.  
  
“Sometimes you are too bold for your own good,” He said amused. Lucius opened his mouth to apologize but Voldemort continued: “He informed the Minister and the Heads of Departments that he works as a spy.”  
“They believed him?” Lucius asked incredulous. Voldemort shot him a flat but warning look and Lucius nodded that he understood before he continued.  
  
“Severus sends his update on the Hogwarts wards,” Lucius said, “He believes that there are at least five layers that need to be destroyed before we can enter the school without problems. That or the Holder of the Wards has to release them, either willingly to another or by death. And – according to Severus – the Holder happens to be the old fool himself.”  
  
Voldemort seemed to ponder this for a couple of seconds before he waved for Lucius to continue. Lucius grabbed a small report from his pocket, enlarged it and handed it to Voldemort before he continued.  
  
“Rookwood states that that the Prophecy concerning you and the Potter boy is located in the Department of Mysteries – which is currently located on the ninth floor – In the Hall of Prophecy, on row 97,” Lucius said, “The exact route is written in his report. But, according to Rookwood, the entire Department of Mysteries is made to make sure that no one but the Unspeakables could find their way down there. Mcnair’s report is as usual: the creatures are getting angrier and more resentful towards the Ministry and thus their supporters, meaning the light witches and wizards.”  
  
Voldemort nodded, “Your son’s report?”  
“Potter’s still without his friends, though they don’t seem to be on bad terms,” Lucius explained, “It’s more like they’ve… grown apart.”  
  
Voldemort hummed slightly but didn’t react.  
“And Draco has heard something… interesting,” Lucius said, once more cautiously, but his excitement was easily notable in his voice.  
“Has he now?” Voldemort asked and he intertwined his hands.  
“Yes, it seems like young Harry Potter’s scar is more interesting than we thought,” Lucius said satisfied.  
  
“Explain,” Voldemort said.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the rights.
> 
> Warning: discrimination/ racism against creatures.

**Family Ties  
  
Chapter 3  
**  
 _Letters …_  
  
 **oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry trembled with anger as the toad-woman in front of him continued her lecture.  
“And – as you all should know – if you ever find _one_ centaur it is almost certain that there are more of those _beasts_ around,” she said in her grating and sugary voice, “which means that you are to inform the Ministry of your discovery, after which they will keep an eye on them to make sure that those creatures of nearly human intelligence can’t harm _normal_ humans.”  
Harry gritted his teeth together in an attempt to keep quiet and he somehow managed to say nothing.  
  
“Now, our next subject will be werewolves. Can anyone tell me what they know about those things?” Umbridge asked sweetly, her eyes firmly trained on Harry.  
Immediately, Hermione’s hand shot up in the air and Umbridge turned towards her.  
“Yes, miss Granger?” She asked – her tone sugary – and Hermione opened her mouth.  
  
“A werewolf is a human being who, upon the complete rising of the full moon, turns into a fearsome and deadly wolf-like creature. Werewolves can be easily distinguished from regular wolves by several small distinguishing characteristics. Most commonly things like the pupils of the eyes, the shape of the snout, and the tail, which is tufted. At all other times, they appear as normal humans, though they will often seem to be ill as the full moon approaches. This condition is caused by infection with lycanthropy, usually occurring when a human is bitten by a transformed werewolf,” she answered the question in one breath after which she stopped briefly – to pant slightly and to gasp for breath – before she continued.   
“A werewolf differs from an Animagus in the fact that he or she does not transform by choice. With each full moon the person transforms after which he or she no longer remembers who he or she is, and he or she would kill even their best friend given the opportunity. There is no known cure for either the bite of a werewolf in his wolf form or the bite of a werewolf in his human form, though the Wolfsbane potion is the only known potion that can, in any way, make a werewolf less dangerous by allowing him or her to keep his or her human mind during transformation.”  
  
“That is almost correct,” Umbridge said cheerfully and she smiled that horrible sweet smile of her, the one which always spelt trouble. Harry felt his heart plummet at her smile and closed his eyes.   
“The only mistake you made, however, was to say that those things are _human_ beings, that they appear as normal _human_ beings and that they have a _human_ mind.” Umbridge giggled her weirdly twisted giggle and small laughs could be heard from the Slytherin side of the classroom.  
Harry saw red but managed – thanks to his many years with his somewhat violent uncle – to keep his mouth closed and his face unreadable.  
  
“A werewolf is nothing more than a _beast_ who tries to live and act as a normal _human_ being,” Umbridge said, a gleeful smile on her face, “and there for it is my opinion – and the opinion of quite a few people with me – that there should be an Anti-Werewolf Legalisation to make sure that werewolves can _not_ be a danger to _normal_ witches and wizards or even muggles!”  
  
The Slytherins smirked just as gleeful at her words and Harry heard Malfoy mutter something about filthy halfbreeds, but it was somehow loud enough for the entire class to hear.   
Umbridge smiled at him – an almost genuine smile – and simpered: “Thank you, mister Malfoy. Now, before I dismiss this class, I want, for our next lesson – which is on Monday – a full report on why werewolves are a danger to our society. It should be at least 12 inches long! That would be all! Goodbye class.”  
  
“Goodbye professor Umbridge,” the students responded dutifully and they rose from their places and started to pack their bags.   
Harry, together with all the other Gryffindors, quickly made his way out of the classroom.  
  
He was just glad that he _still_ hadn’t released his temper as that would have gotten him in some mayor trouble. He was also glad that – as DADA had been the last lesson of the day – the weekend had started and he could finally relax and forget about the toad.  
  
Maybe he could even spend some time with Ron and Hermione this weekend.  
  
 **oOo  
**  
It was Saturday, it was eleven o’clock in the morning and he still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of either of his best friends. And it hurt, it really did. Yesterday, the two of them had left directly after DADA and they had returned to the common room sometime _after_ Harry had went to bed.   
  
That morning, Ron had still been sleeping when he had woken up. And when he had entered the common room Hermione had been nowhere in sight.   
But what really galled him was that after breakfast both had disappeared. Again!  
  
In the end, he had decided to go to the library – again – and complete the last of his homework. By himself. Again.   
  
He wondered if he would get at least E’s or higher on all his OWL subjects. It wouldn’t really surprise him, not after all the time he had already spent in the library.  
  
He closed his eyes, dropped his head on the table and ignored everything around him.  
He missed the times that they hung out together, just the three of them.   
Oh, he _knew_ that they still cared for him and that they still saw him as their best friend but it didn’t show. They were always together, just the two of them and – while they didn’t do it on purpose – they _did_ ignore him. They always left together, they always ate together and they always made their homework together, leaving him behind and on his own.  
  
He didn’t begrudge them their relationship. In fact, he was really happy for them.  
He was also aware that new couples _wanted_ to spend as much time together as they could.  
But it did hurt that they didn’t even think about spending some time with him. Wasn’t he supposed to be their best friend? Didn’t that mean at least something to them?  
  
He quickly shoved those thoughts away and opened his eyes to concentrate on the piece of parchment in front of him.   
  
He had started almost an hour ago on the essay Umbridge had appointed and the only thing he had written so far was ‘Why werewolves are a danger to our society’.  
He couldn’t think of anything. He knew that they could be dangerous on a night when there was a full moon – with the emphasis on _could_. And, even if it was a night like that, they were only a danger if they hadn’t taken their Wolfsbane.   
So, while they were dangerous on moments like that he couldn’t see nor could he understand how _that_ could be a danger to their _entire society_.  
  
He sighed and wondered if the library had anything on the subject. He sighed again and decided that he might just as well search for it.  
  
 **oOo  
**  
It was almost half an hour later and he still hadn’t found anything on the subject.  
The library had more than enough on werewolves but he couldn’t find anything on them being a danger to _society_.  
  
He sighed and let his head rest against the enormous bookcase in front of him as he wondered how he would ever finish his essay without information.  
He stayed like that for a couple of minutes before he pulled back and looked around. He briefly entertained the thought of continuing his search for the potion and the charm over slaving on his attempt of his essay for the toad.  
  
Not for the first time did he wish that Hermione was with him. She could have found the books he was searching for in a couple of seconds.   
He closed his eyes again and let his head fall, once again, back against the bookcase. One small tear made its way down his cheek slowly.  
  
He wished that Sirius was here. The Marauder could always cheer him up, either by pranking people or by telling him stories about his parents and the rest Marauders. Hell, even hearing about _Wormtail_ would have cheered him up, by now!  
  
His eyes suddenly snapped open. Sirius’ parents had been dark, maybe the Black library had the book he was looking for! It might even have some obscure books on werewolves with stories on why werewolves could be dangerous for a _society_.  
  
His heart started to race and he quickly walked back to his table, took a clean slate of parchment and started on his letter to Sirius.  
  
 _Dear Snuffles,  
How are you? I hope our dear friend doesn’t feel too cramped and lonely.  
Guess what? Hermione and Ron got together! It was kind of an accident, something with the train, you should ask them. It is really funny, well sort of. But they _ are _together!_  
  
He stopped, wondering how he should phrase the questions he wanted to ask.  
  
 _I don’t know if you remember the conversation we had when we were in_ that _chamber, I think you know which one, but it kept playing in my mind. So I was wondering, since the Potters_ are _an old family, if I had any relatives left. And with relatives I mean wizards or witches whom might be related enough to take me in. You know like the Weasleys, or the Longbottoms. Or someone else entirely.  
It doesn’t really matter who, as long as I don’t have to go back to the _ Dursleys _. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to come and live with you. But I’m afraid that they won’t catch Wormtail anytime soon… especially since he is with_ Him _.  
So yeah, I’m rambling, aren’t I?  
  
Anyway, my question is: could you look in the Black library for a book for me? I’m looking for a combination of a potion and a charm that can tell me about my ancestry. But, as it needs human blood… As you can guess, the library here doesn’t have it.  
An old potion book mentioned it so it might be one of the older books…_  
  
He wondered briefly if Sirius would understand which day he meant but he decided that – since he had told him about his wish to leave the Dursleys and about the chamber – it would have to do.  
  
 _Oh, you know that we have that toad-woman Umbridge as our DADA teacher right? Well, she keeps baiting me. I’m of the opinion that she is trying to get me into trouble but I’m not quite sure why.  
It might have something to do with _ Him _and_ His _return, though.  
But she is – like you said – incredibly biased against creatures. Yesterday, she told us all about ‘how centaurs should be herded together like horses’ and ‘how werewolves are beasts that wanted to be humans’.  Well, it’s not like _ she _is normal. It’s our believe that she has some toad genes somewhere in her line.  
Anyway, she has ordered us to write an essay about ‘why werewolves are a danger to society’ but, for obvious reasons, I can’t think of anything. You wouldn’t happen to have some _ prejudiced _books about werewolves, would you?  
  
I hope you, and Moony if he is with you, are well and I hope you write back soon!  
Best,  
Harry_  
  
Harry reread his letter one last time and changed some small things before he decided that it was good enough to send so he packed his stuff and left the library for the day.  
  
 **oOo**  
  
He watched as Hedwig flew away, the letter clutched in her talons.   
He watched until he could no longer see her, after which he turned away from the window and left the Owlery.  
  
He turned his face towards the sky the moment he was outside. It was a rather nice day for October. It was sunny, there was almost no wind and it was still warm enough to walk around without a scarf or a thick cloak.  
  
He decided that – since he could do nothing but wait for Sirius’ response and since he actually had some free time – it would be nice to take a walk. Either around the lake or near the Forbidden Forest, both would do.   
He wished briefly that Hagrid was back so he could talk to _him_ , but he knew that Hagrid actually needed to meet the giants. Not for the war, but for himself.  
He wondered briefly how much bigger a giant compared to Hagrid would be before he dismissed that thought.  
  
He was so distracted with his thoughts that he didn’t even realise that his feet had let him towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest.  
  
“Hello Harry,” the soft and airy voice shook him out of his thoughts and he looked up towards its source.  
“Oh, hi Luna,” Harry answered softly as he took in the scene in front of him.   
  
The dirty-blonde haired girl was standing at the edge of the Forest in only Muggle trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. She wore no shoes or socks but she didn’t seem to mind the cold. Near her were four creatures which resembled almost skeletal black horses with large bat-like wings, an almost reptilian face and white, glittering eyes which lacked any expression or pupils. He assumed that three of the creatures were fully grown while the fourth seemed to be only a small foal.  
  
He opened his mouth to ask Luna about the creatures but she was a bit faster and said: “They are called Thestrals. They're quite gentle, really. But people avoid them because they're a bit. Well, they are different."  
Harry nodded at her explanation before he carefully made his way towards one of the creatures. He stopped at a relatively safe distant and stuck out his hand for the creature to inspect. It carefully came closer and nudged his hand and Harry slowly raised his hand to its black mane covered neck. He patted it a couple of time and noted much to his surprise that its dark skin was smooth and slightly slippery.  
  
The Thestral whinnied softly and turned to push its head into his hands and Harry softly patted its head before he turned back to Luna.  
“Aren’t you cold?” he asked the girl curious, “Where are your shoes?”  
“Not really, the weather is quite nice,” she answered airily, “My housemates have probably taken them. But they can’t help it! Not really. They are infested with Wrackspurts, after all.”  
Harry wondered whether he should ask what Wrackspurts were or if he should laugh.  
In the end the only thing he said – and rather weakly at that – was: “Of course they are.”   
Luna seemed to like his answer as it caused her to beam at him.  
  
All in all, he spent a rather enjoyable Saturday afternoon with the somewhat weird Ravenclaw.  



	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the rights.
> 
> Warning: discrimination/ racism against creatures.

**Family Ties  
  
Chapter 4  
**  
 _Letters …_  
  
 **oOoOoOo**  
  
The next morning Hedwig came back with a letter in her beak and a small package tied to both her legs. She landed on his knee and Harry – who had been sitting outside with Luna talking about school and her weird creatures – quickly relieved her of her burden.  
  
“I’m sorry girl but I don’t have anything for you,” he told his faithful owl apologetic. Hedwig hooted in understanding and nipped his fingers almost lovingly, though she nipped him a bit harder than she would have done if he _did_ give her something to eat.  
“You can either return to the owlery to eat something and to rest there or you can stay here with us.”  
  
“I might have something,” Luna interrupted softly and she put her hand in the bag she always carried, “No, that’s the meat. And that’s a Gurdyroot, can you hold it for me?”  
She took her hand out of the bag before she dumped the item she had in her hand in his lap. The thing she had called a Gurdyroot was large and green and looked a lot like an overgrown onion.  
“Er, sure,” Harry said and he carefully picked the thing up to inspect it, “What does it do?”  
“It wards off Gulping Plimpies. And it’s used as a binding ingredient in some potions,” Luna answered airily, “Ah, here it is.”  
  
She looked triumphantly as she took a small purple bag out of her bag. She quickly opened it and handed an owl-treat to Hedwig, who immediately gulped it down.  
“She is such a beautiful owl,” Luna said dreamily, “I wish I had an owl like that. But Starlight is a great owl too! And my dad told me that she carries my mum’s soul.”  
  
“Yes Hedwig is a beautiful owl, aren’t you girl?” Harry cooed fondly and he carefully stroked the owl’s head, much to the owl’s delight. She had hooted when she had been called beautiful.  
“I guess it’s nice to know that you mother is always with you, even if her soul is in your owl,” Harry, who had decide that just going with the flow was the best thing to do when one talked to Luna, said after a couple of seconds of silence, “Er, do you want your root back?”  
“No, you can keep it. It might be useful in the future,” Luna said, almost seriously, “You do have family too, you know.”  
  
Harry opened his mouth to react to that but Luna said, almost sharply, “I don’t mean your Muggle relatives. I mean your godfather and Ron and his family and Hermione. They all are your family!”  
“I guess,” Harry finally said after a couple of minutes of silence, “Though, I’m not quite sure about Ron and Hermione. It has been almost a month and- You know what, it doesn’t really matter.”  
“They will turn back to normal once the Plimpies leave,” Luna said in her normal dreamy voice.  
  
“Is that why you gave me the root?” Harry asked curious.  
“Not really,” was the only thing that Luna said, “I think you should read your letter. It might be important.”  
  
Harry nodded before he carefully moved Hedwig, who seemed to be tired, to his shoulder. He picked up the letter and the package, put the weird root in his pocket – he would figure out what to do with it when he had time – and stood from his spot on the bench before he turned back to Luna.  
  
“Do you want to join me in the library tomorrow?” Harry asked, and he couldn’t help but sound hopeful.  
“I would love to,” Luna said delighted, “Does that mean I’m your friend?”  
Harry looked at her weirdly and Luna visibly sagged under his gaze.  
“I don’t see why you have to ask that,” he finally said softly, “Of course you are my friend!”  
Luna immediately perked up and beamed at him: “That’s nice.”  
  
 **oOo  
**  
He dropped the package and letter on his bed and took the root out if his pocket and placed it on his nightstand. He made sure that his bag was empty before he turned his head towards Hedwig, who blinked dazedly at him.  
“Are you alright girl?” he asked worried. She hooted a tired affirmative and flapped from his shoulder towards the headboard of the bed.  
“If you say so,” he said, still worried, as he sat down on his bed. He kept his back towards the door and his face towards the headboard on which she was resting.   
  
Hedwig had been tired before but never like this, “did something happen?”  
She hooted another affirmative and Harry stiffened.  
“Where you hurt?” he asked. Hedwig shot him a tired look and he shook his head, “You’re right, I would have noticed that. So cursed?”   
  
She gave another hooted affirmative and Harry immediately drew his wand to cast a revealing spell on her but it came back negative. He sighed softly in relieve until he realised that it could happen again.  
“Was it someone from this school?” He asked hastily. Hedwig hooted, once again, an affirmative before she closed her eyes.  
  
Harry’s eyes softened and he softly stroked her head, “just rest girl, no one can harm you while you are here.”  
  
He kept stroking her back until he was sure that she had fallen asleep, after which he shifted until he was fully resting against the headboard before he reached for the letter.  
He drew his wand and cast a charm – which he had learned during his search for an ancestry potion – on the letter to make sure no one had messed with it. The charm turned green to show that there were no spells on it so he opened it and read it.  
  
 _Dear pup,  
  
I’m fine thanks for asking.  Okay, fine, Moony tells me not to lie. To be honest, I’m bored to death as I’m not allowed to leave the house. Add that the only ones here are Moony – sometimes – and the Weasley’s – sometimes – and the rest of the boring Order – also sometimes.   
Moony says that I’m rambling.  
So I was kinda happy with your request and your letter since it gave me something to do. Don’t get me wrong though, I really do want to hear from you!  
  
I told Molly about them being together. She was happy for them but disappointed that they hadn’t told her. And she started about them having children. That was one weird conversation!  
Anyway: I would love to hear the story of how they became a couple! Could you ask them for me?  
Oh, Moony wants me to ask if they aren’t forgetting about you. Something about them being too occupied with each other?  
  
Anyway I recognize the book you ask for but I can’t remember the name or where it is. It hasn’t been thrown away though because, even though I hate this house and everything inside it – well except the people that are here on the moment – and the feeling of Dark Magic I do know that knowledge can be power. So I’ll search the library until I find it!  
  
About the toad-woman – by the by well done pup, I like the name! – and her essay: I found some books and added them with this letter. Moony, who sadly enough has experienced some of the prejudice, has also some reasons but he insisted on writing his own letter…  
  
Anyway: take care pup and please, please watch out for the toad-woman!  
Best,   
Snuffles._  
  
 _PS: Moony’s letter is on the other side…_  
  
Harry turned the letter to see the letter that Sirius mentioned.  
  
 _Harry,  
  
Snuffles told me about your letter and – while he wrote everything I wanted to say – I decided that I would inform you myself of some of those reasons.  
  
But first, since Snuffles didn’t quite understand what I meant I’ll rephrase the question. While I’m happy for Ron and Hermione that they are together, the question is: how are they treating you? Are they always together or are you guys still the golden trio? And yes, I know you hate that name.  
If you want to know why I ask this, I’ve seen it happen before. When your mother finally agreed to go out with your father, your father spent all his time with her. Literally. We could understand it of course and we had each other so we weren’t alone. But seeing as how they are your best friends, and I’m sorry to say this but you don’t have other friends… well you get the point.  
  
Anyway some of the reasons people gave for not hiring me are:  
1) I’m apparently a beast and not a human being and people don’t hire cats or horses, now do they?  
2) Werewolves are dangerous animals which should be put down.  
3) I’m sick a couple of days per month.  
There are more reasons but I believe they are all mentioned in the books Snuffles included.  
  
Cub, I know you don’t like Umbridge or the things she says about creatures. But whatever you do, don’t argue with her! She is a sadistic woman who loves nothing more than to show how good she is. Better yet, she is nothing more than a bully who, sadly enough, got the power to hurt people. So, like Snuffles has told you, please be careful around her!  
  
Take care,  
Moony_  
  
Harry laid down the letter with a bitter taste in his mouth before he opened the package. Inside were five old, thick books with bookmarks.  
He carefully opened the first book at the first bookmark only to see the picture of a werewolf being contained by a shiny, gleaming net and a deathly pale man dragging the net and its prisoner away. Next to the picture was a rather large title which stated: ‘why werewolves are a danger to humans’.  
  
Harry briefly closed his eyes in despair. In the end he gave a long suffered sigh and opened his eyes. Not doing the work Umbridge wanted would only make it worse.   
So he stood from the bed – carefully so he wouldn’t wake Hedwig – before he gathered his books and left the dorm to finish his essay.  
  
 **oOo**  
  
It was almost fifteen minutes until the very end of the lesson and the stack in front of Umbridge had shrunk until was only two essays thick.   
Umbridge had told them at the beginning of the lesson to place their essays on her desk after which they had to read chapter six and seven from their books. In the meantime, she would mark their essays and – If they had been good – she would tell them their mark.  
Most people had been annoyed by the way she had once again treated them like toddlers but they had learned that complaining about it wouldn’t help.  
  
Harry’s essay was exactly twelve inch long and he was proud of it. Well he would have been proud of it if the subject hadn’t been ‘why werewolves are a danger to our society’.   
The bitter taste - which had been in his mouth since he had opened the Black book - still hadn’t left his mouth.  
  
Only twelve minutes left and there was only one essay left, and a rather thin one at that.  
Harry had finished the chapter a little over five minutes ago and had – ever since – prayed to every deity he knew that Umbridge would not finish her marking before the bell rang.  
  
Almost ten minutes left and she had just started on the last essay. She almost immediately took her quill – and the horrible pink coloured ink she favoured – and started to cross out things on the last essay.  
Harry almost wished that it was his but knew that the person to whom that essay belonged would be in trouble.  
  
A little over eight minutes left and she was half way done with the essay.  
Harry closed his eyes in despair and he knew that she would tell them their mark.  
He didn’t want to know what she had thought of his essay, nor did he want the entire class to know just what he had written.  
  
“Hum, hum,” sounded and everyone closed their books, opened their eyes, lifted their heads of their tables or stopped chatting with their neighbours and turned their attention towards her. Umbridge gave them a satisfied smile before she continued in that terrible sweet voice, “since you worked all so hard, I will tell you your marks!”  
  
The Slytherins perked while most of the Gryffindors groaned.  
“I’ll start with the lowest marks and work my way up to the highest mark,” she said and she giggled softly, “Ronald Weasley a T for his essay which only said, and I quote: ‘Werewolves are not a danger to society’ in the most atrocious handwriting I’ve ever seen. Mr Weasley, detention with me tonight. It’s time someone taught you how to write proper readable English.”  
Ron clenched his fists and his head turned red in anger but he didn’t say anything except for a very forced: “Yes, professor.”  
  
The Slytherins sniggered and Hermione patted him on the arm.  
“A T for Hermione Granger for an essay about: ‘Why Werewolves aren’t a danger to society,” Umbridge gave another high-pitched giggle before she continued, “since miss Granger has such _wonderful_ grades, I’ll give her the chance to rewrite it.”  
Hermione nodded stiffly and Umbridge continued with the list.  
  
Most of the Gryffindor had either a T, a D or a P and only one person had an A. Harry still hadn’t been mentioned.  
  
“Now for the E’s,” Umbridge said and Harry felt the shivers run down his spine. Hermione shot him a pitying look and she mouthed at him: ‘Did you make it?’  
Harry nodded and her eyes widened.  
  
Harry quickly checked the clock only to see that they still had two minutes to go until the bell would ring. He felt his stomach drop and prayed that his name had already been called.  
More and more names where mentioned, mostly Slytherins.  
  
It wasn’t until the very end of the last minute that he was finally mentioned.  
  
“Now, the highest mark goes to Harry Potter for an excellent essay about why werewolves are so dangerous,” Umbridge said sweetly and cheerfully and she turned her attention towards him. The rest of the class shifted their attention towards him either surprised, with glee or horrified and Harry wished that the earth could open up and swallow him.  
  
“Not only did he mention five concrete reasons why they are so dangerous – with solid arguments – he also mentioned something rather _interesting_ ,” Umbridge continued and the surprised looks turned into jealousy, the Slytherins, or betrayal, the Gryffindors.  
  
“Mr Potter, could you tell me where you found the information about the fact that werewolves attract vampires?” Umbridge asked sweetly. Hermione’s eyes widened and she looked both curious and disapproving.  
“I- I wondered about why vampires and werewolves fight when they meet so I asked someone for books,” Harry said after a couple of seconds in which Umbridge waited impatiently, “it was mentioned in one of those books.”  
  
Umbridge nodded and asked: “Could you tell me what you wrote in your essay.”  
Harry looked at her and wondered if he should disobey her before he remembered that both Sirius and Remus had pleaded with him to listen to her and to _not_ get in trouble with the woman. Sadly enough, he hadn’t had the opportunity to tell _that_ to his best friends.  
  
“Werewolves attract vampires because,” Harry paused briefly before he continued, “because the blood of a werewolf contains some kind of protein which makes a vampire stronger. They fight because a werewolf will never, ever give his blood willingly to a vampire. Every werewolf knows about this while only a couple of vampires are aware of that piece of information. A werewolf will always attack a vampire to make sure that it remains as secret as possible.”  
  
Umbridge opened her mouth to say something but she was interrupted by the bell, which rang.  
  
Harry quickly put his items in his bag before he almost ran out of the classroom, fleeing as far away as he could, just to escape the betrayed glances.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: not mine.
> 
> Warnings: discrimination towards beings seen as 'lesser'.

**Family ties  
  
Chapter 5  
**  
_Letters …_  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
He ran as quickly as he could. Sometimes he ducked to avoid the harsh and unmovable branches of the trees that threatened to hit him in the face. Sometimes he jumped to avoid tripping over a tree root or low hanging branches.   
His face and hands were already littered with small scratches from when he hadn’t managed to avoid the branches and he felt small streams of blood run down the bridge of his nose and his cheeks.  
  
He panted harshly due to the fatigue he felt but he didn’t dare to slow down in case his hunters were still behind him. He didn’t even dare look over his shoulder, having learned long ago that _that_ would only end with him either tripping or getting hit with a branch on his head or in his face. Both would have been bad for his health since it would slow him down significantly.  
  
He heard the sounds of his hunters coming closer; the sound of snapping twigs sounded from only a couple of feet behind him and he could hear their voices as they spurred each other on.  
He saw a large open space in front of him and decided – even though he knew that it would be rather rocky – that it could at least help him create a slight advantage. Hopefully enough so he could escape!  
  
He closed his eyes briefly only to snap them open at the sound of a twig snapping _right_ _next to him_ …  
He stumbled slightly as he quickly turned his head to the side, only to see an empty open clearing.   
Suddenly his foot get caught into the hole of some kind of small animal and he felt himself fall. His head snapped forward and he quickly caught his fall with his hands, turned over until he was laying on his back and jumped up…  
  
Only to bump his head against the canopy of his bed in the Gryffindor tower as he shot up, his chest heaving and his eyes wide.  
He panted and cursed softly under his breath as he sat back down with his back against the headboard, and looked around. His eyes were still wide and his heart beat still too fast for comfort.  
But he could only see the red curtains surrounding his bed and the soft silver light of the moon peaking trough a small tear in his curtains shining on the red covers of his bed.  
  
He sighed and shuddered as the cool air of the tower finally hit him and as he remembered his dream. He had had this particular nightmare for days but he still hadn’t managed to get a good look at his hunters, or hear their voices in such a way that he could recognize them.   
But he was somehow always afraid that his hunters were his friends, or the persons that he had considered his friends.  
  
His friends – except Luna and, strangely enough, Neville – hadn’t talked to him ever since he had managed to get an O on his DADA essay, which had been two days ago. They hadn’t even allowed him to _explain_ himself and that infuriated him.  
  
He closed his eyes to calm down from both his anger – which had appeared when he thought of his so called friends – and the anxiety that still lingered after his nightmare.  
  
He opened his eyes again to check the time and he groaned as he noticed that it was only three o’clock in the morning.   
He flopped back down and decided that he would tackle one of his so called friends in the morning, he would explain himself, even if he had to _stun_ them!  
With that thought in mind, he let himself drift off, back into the arms of Morpheus.  
  
**oOo  
**  
He woke up early the next morning, almost four hours before the first class would start, and quickly dressed to make sure that he caught either Ron, which he thought was unlikely, or Hermione, or both if they had shared a bed, so he could talk to them before the lessons would start.  
  
He had to wait almost twenty minutes before Hermione, who was normally an early riser, finally appeared.  
“Hermione,” Harry called out and she turned towards him, “I want to talk to you.”  
Hermione seemed to be torn between the choice of walking away and ignoring him or sitting down next to him and talk to him, like he had requested. In the end, she walked towards him and sat down.  
  
“What do you want to talk about?” She asked accusingly, her voice cold, “Your behaviour in DADA? Or your essay? Do you know what she did to Ron? Or to some of the others? And why don’t you tell her that you were right about the fact that You-Know-Who is back! And why did you-”  
“She hates me, if you haven’t noticed that,” Harry interrupted harshly,” so Moony and Snuffles told me to not aggravate the woman.”   
  
Hermione turned to look at him in surprise but Harry ignored her and continued softly, “I wrote them after we had gotten that assignment. I didn’t know what to put into the essay, since, contrary to what you guys apparently believe, I did _not_ and still do not agree with her, so I wrote them. They told me that she was a cruel woman, a bully with too much power, and that I should be careful around her. I wanted to warn you guys, I really did, and I wanted to give you the information Snuffles and Moony had handed me… but you guys weren’t around. Ever. And don’t get me wrong, I’m glad for you guys that you are finally together, but I’ve had it with the fact that you two have been _ignoring_ me! Can you even remember the last time we actually ate together or spent some time together, you know, the three of us instead of the two of you? You don’t, do you?”  
  
Harry panted slightly to get his breath back before he continued: “You haven’t even noticed that that- _that_ _woman_ hates me, and she isn’t exactly subtle with how she shows it. You haven’t noticed that my marks went up to E’s, and sometimes O’s, instead of the fail marks or A’s I used to get, even in potions! But, when we actually _spend_ time together, which is rare, you still scold me about my lack of motivation and the fact that, if I actually were to open a book, I would be able to do my homework on my own. Guess what, I do my homework on my own… and you don’t bloody notice! And, when I actually manage to get an O on an assignment, which I managed on my own and because I do not _want_ to get in trouble, I’m being labelled as a traitor _by the very people who have abandoned me_!”  
  
He poured all of the frustration he had felt for weeks in his words, ignoring Hermione, who seemed to want to interrupt him: “How hard is it to spend _one_ hour, one measly hour, with me instead of every single minute with Ron? How hard is it to include me in whatever you two are doing when you actually _are_ present in the common room? How hard is it to actually _notice_ me? You know what? It doesn’t matter anymore, ignore what I said.”  
Hermione just stared at him blankly and he couldn’t help but start fidgeting.  
  
“I understand,” Hermione finally said, she seemed to have forgotten his angry rant already, “I don’t like it, and I don’t like the woman, but I understand why you made the essay the way you did. It does explain why you managed to keep your mouth shut about You-Know-Who… I’ll inform Ron and the others about what you told me.”  
  
Harry nodded and watched as she stood and left, somehow disappointed that it was so easy for her to forget his words and that she hadn’t even apologized for the fact that they _had_ been ignoring him. To apologize for the fact that they had been wrong about him, about his behaviour and his reasons to act the way he did.  
And it hurt, because he knew that they were growing apart, had already grown apart, and that it meant that he wasn’t important to them, not anymore.  
  
He closed his eyes again and tried to suppress the tears that wanted to fall, but he failed and they started to make their way down his cheeks before they fell on his lap. Being forgotten hurt.  
  
**oOo**  
  
Harry slowly put another piece of bacon in his mouth as he stared amused at his friend, who seemed to be convinced that there were some kind of Pligmies in the air and tried to get them _out_ of the air.  
He softly laughed as he saw how she jumped up, missed her invisible target and fell back down on a soft patch of grass. Again.  
  
He had asked both Neville and Luna to enjoy the start of the day with him outside. He knew that he could have asked the others, it had been after all two days ago that he had talked to Hermione and that he had been… forgiven, not that he had done anything _wrong_ , but he had decided that he rather liked spending time with the people who actually stood by him when he needed them, and it only hurt to think of Ron and Hermione.   
  
His mood fell when his thoughts turned, once again, to his once best friends and the smile he had been sporting slowly faded from his face.  
“You know, you could have invited them along,” Neville’s shy voice sounded and Harry turned towards him.  
He gave him a small, sad smile before he responded: “I like spending time with you guys. And you two are great friends. Better than them, and they were supposed to be my best friends…”  
He softly muttered the last sentence under his breath but Neville and Luna heard him anyway.  
“We know,” Luna said softly and both boys turned towards her, she stood still with her shoulders hanging, “We know that we can’t replace them…”  
She sounded almost as sad as he felt so Harry interrupted her softly: “No, you two can’t replace them.”

Neville’s and Luna’s face shifted until they both wore sad and understanding looks but Harry quickly continued.  
“Just like they can’t replace the two of you,” He smiled slightly at them, “And the two of you have showed that you are better friends than the two of them, who have been ignoring me since the start of the year and who were mad at me for following the advice from my sort-of guardians!”  
Luna beamed at him and Neville turned a bright red in pleasure at his words. Both of them sported, once again, smiles and he returned their smiles with one of his own, but his was a sad and slightly watery smile.  
  
“But let’s talk about something else, shall we?” Harry said after a couple of minutes in which he collected himself, “How about we discuss… that rather interesting plant you were talking about Luna?”  
Neville immediately perked up and started to ask questions about the plant, which were immediately answered by Luna. Harry just watched them talking, a soft, but sad, smile once again on his face.  
  
**oOo**  
  
It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon and the three of them were sitting in the library, making their homework.  
“Why are centaurs ‘creatures of nearly human intelligence’ and not ‘creatures of human intelligence’?” Neville asked softly.  
“Er… according to this book it is because they still use bow and arrows instead of magic and wands, because they can’t use magic like us humans and because they use archaic technics for their houses and clothing,” Harry read out loud, distaste clearly notable in his voice, “Oh wait, they don’t wear clothing… which is point four…”  
“I don’t like this,” Neville muttered softly as he wrote down the answers that Harry had provided.  
“We know,” Luna said soothingly, “No one does…”  
“Except Umbridge,” Harry said dryly.  
“Yes,” Luna conceded,” except her.”  
  
The soft sound of an owl pecking at a window interrupted them and Luna moved slightly on her spot to see whose owl it was.  
“Harry, it is Hedwig with a letter and a package for you,” She said after a couple of seconds, her tone worried.  
He frowned at her tone and the worry on her face and asked: “Luna, what is wrong?”  
“She seems to be… hurt,” Luna answered and Harry immediately bolted out of his chair and quickly opened the window to let his faithful owl in.  
  
Hedwig hooted thankfully, flew in and immediately landed on his shoulder. Harry walked back towards their spot and carefully moved her from his shoulder onto the table to check her for injuries.  
He found none but she seemed to be too tired and it worried them.  
  
“Were you cursed?” He asked her softly and she hooted an affirmative.  
“Are you hurt?” Neville asked at which Hedwig hooted a negative.  
“Was it someone from school? Again?” Harry asked quickly, another affirmative hoot sounded and Harry, Luna and Neville exchanged glances.

“What do you mean ‘again’?” Neville asked.  
“A week ago, she was just as tired as she is now,” Harry explained, “She conveyed to me, before she fell asleep, that someone had cursed her but she couldn’t tell me who because she fell asleep.”

Neville frowned slightly before he asked Hedwig: “Was it Umbridge?”  
Hedwig looked at them before she hooted a negative.  
“Could you give us a hint?” Luna asked softly, the worry clear in her normal airy voice.  
Hedwig flapped her wings and flew, with difficulty, towards Luna, where she started to tug at her blond hair.  
“Was it someone with blond hair?” Neville asked curious. Hedwig bobbed her head in agreement.

“Was it a boy or a girl,” Harry asked Hedwig hooted softly and bobbed her head towards Neville.  
“A boy,” Luna answered for her, “Who do you know has blond hair and would show his enmity by cursing Hedwig?”  
Neville and Harry shared looks before they said at the same time: “Malfoy.”  
Hedwig hooted again and they turned back towards her.  
“So it was Malfoy?” Neville asked at which Hedwig bobbed her head once again, “I’m glad that your owl can understand us and is smart, otherwise we would have never known.”

Harry nodded and softly stroked her head once.  
“Are you going to be all right girl?” Harry asked, still worried about her. Hedwig gave another hooted affirmative before she flew back towards the table where she started to tug at the package bound to her leg.  
  
Harry quickly released her of her burden before he put her in his lap.  
“Go to sleep, we will protect you and keep you safe,” Harry said soothingly and he carefully pet her.  
Hedwig gave another hoot before she closed her eyes.  
“She will be fine,” Luna said airily, but the worry was still noticeable in her voice, “She is strong and, like you said, we will protect her. Now, I believe you should open your package.”  
  
Harry did as he was told and quickly opened it to reveal one old, black covered book and a note.  
He opened the note and read it out loud: “ _Prongslet, I found it! Please be careful and don’t forget to write me and Moony! Snuffles._ ”  
“What did he find?” Neville aske curious and Harry felt himself heat up.  
“I- Er, I asked him to find a book for me in the Black Library,” Harry mumbled softly.

Neville blinked at him in confusion and asked:  “What did you say?”   
Harry opened his mouth to respond, his head still red in embarrassment, but Luna said: “Harry asked his godfather for a book so he could find out if he had a family in the wizarding world.”

“Really?” Neville asked and he shot Harry an understanding look. Harry had told him and Luna something about the Muggles he lived with.   
“I hope you do… otherwise I’m sure that you can stay with me and my gran… she wouldn’t mind!” Neville grinned at him and Harry couldn’t help but return the smile, “And if you need help with whatever you are doing, just ask. I’ll help you!”  
“Thanks Nev,” he said softly, “I appreciate it.”  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
 “What do you mean ‘he failed to cast the Imperious on the owl’?” He hissed softly, his teeth bared angrily, as he lifted the Cruciatus curse he had cast the moment those words had left the blonde’s lips.

“I’m sorry, My Lord, Draco told me that he successfully cast the spell on the owl but that she somehow managed to fight the spell and get away from him,” Lucius explained, his voice, while still cold and emotionless, shook slightly and his eyes showed that he was clearly worried about his son’s life while his body showed the strain of and the pain thanks to the curse he had been submitted to, “She managed to get away from him twice.”

Voldemort stood and glared at him, his wand still in his hand and pointed at the man, “Make sure that the next time, she will _not_ get away!”  
Lucius shivered in fear in front of him and he couldn’t help but feel satisfied, knowing that he had caused the normally emotionless man to show his feelings.  
Lucius carefully raised himself of the floor and quickly repaired his mask, something which angered him.

“ _Crucio,_ ” Voldemort spat out and Lucius fell once again on the ground, twitching in his attempt to get away from the spell and to relieve himself of the pain. It took a couple of minutes before he finally started to scream in pain. Voldemort, satisfied, lifted the curse and glared warningly at Lucius.  
“Don’t let it happen again,” He hissed softly, warningly and Lucius moved so he was sitting on his knees with his head touching the ground.  
“Yes, My Lord,” he said as loud as he could, his voice hoarse from his screaming.  
“Now get out of my sight!” Voldemort said softly, threateningly and the man in front of him quickly stood, bowed and left.  
  
Voldemort let out another angry hiss before he screamed in anger and started to shoot spells at the walls and doors.  
  
**oOo**  
  
It took him almost two hours, and a completely destroyed room, before he finally calmed down.  
He blinked as he noticed the condition of the room and quickly repaired it, wondering what had triggered the rage of his insane self this time.  
He vaguely remembered Lucius bringing the news that the Malfoy heir had managed to fail in his task but that didn’t warrant him destroying his own house… right?

He shook his head to rid himself of the lingering madness and his irritation at not remembering the incident and forced himself to process the information Lucius had provided.  
He reached two conclusions, either the boy was terrible weak and couldn’t cast an Imperious on a _bird_ , or the bird was stronger and smarter than she appeared and had fought against the curse and won.

He decided to do nothing until he had seen the boy’s memories of the event. After all, he could always continue his planning _after_ he had seen them.  
Content with this new plan, he stood and left for his office to continue on his plan on how to get the prophecy.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the rights.

**Family ties  
  
Chapter 6  
**  
_Letters …_  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry quickly, but carefully, made sure that the door of the dorm room was closed, locked _and_ warded, so that no one could enter it while he was there without his permission, before he sat back down at the desk he had conjured next to his bed and opened the package that contained the book Sirius had sent him.

He knew that if anyone – except Neville, Luna and maybe some of the Slytherins and Ron and Hermione, though he was not as sure about the last two persons as he would have liked – would have seen the book they would have accused him of being dark or evil or something along those lines. Because the book had been banned by the Ministry because of its blood rituals and the one who might have seen him would have turned him in without even considering the reasons _why_ he had the book in his possession in the first place or just to spite him.

He had said goodbye to Neville and Luna earlier, immediately after he had received the book, and he had almost ran towards the Gryffindor tower and his dorm room to read it.   
Both had wished him good luck and both had offered their help with the potion and the charm as he had left the library but he had just waved at them, too curious about the book and the ritual to give a normal response.

He had also taken Hedwig with him, even though both of his friends had offered to look after her until he was finished with his book, to protect his beautiful, loyal owl and to make sure that she could rest without being interrupted and because he wanted to keep her with him at all times from now on, even in the lessons if he could get away with it.

His hands shook slightly when he opened the old book and when he sought for the ritual he needed in the index of the book.  
He felt the hope grow in his chest as he flipped through the ancient pages, which were clearly _not_ made out of normal parchment _or_ paper, until he reached the page which contained the ritual.  
He quickly read through the ingredient list to see which ingredients he needed and he couldn’t help the fond, but slightly confused, smile which appeared on his face as he saw that he needed the top part of a Gurdyroot, the same union like root Luna had given him just weeks ago. He wondered if she had known that he would need it, but decided against asking her.

He reached for the ink, parchment and quill he had placed next to him on the desk when he had just entered the room, before he had even barricaded the door, and quickly wrote down the ingredients which he needed to order from an apothecary or which he needed to _borrow_ from Snape’s personal potion supplies, if they were _not_ quite legal.

When he was finished with his list he quickly double checked if he had every ingredient he needed written down before he read the rest of the text to see what the potion and charm would ‘write out’, what he needed to do to make the potion correctly and what he needed to do during the ritual.

He found out that he would have to soak one piece of high quality, white parchment – as low quality parchment would disintegrate and the ‘ink’ would be unreadable on ‘coloured’ parchment – in the potion, which was actually quite easy to make but took three days to brew, for at least twelve hours before he could use it.

After that he had to place ten drops of his own blood – fresh – on the parchment. When he had done that, he had to cast the charm, which would activate the effects of the potion and turn the parchment blue, and wait ten minutes, or longer, until the parchment was once again white.

The only drawback was that this ritual only showed the people who had had magic and only his direct family, meaning his parents, grandparents, their parents and so on. For that reason, he would not be able to find out who his grandparents from his mother’s side were – unless he asked his aunt which was something he wasn’t willing to do – by using this potion.

He made sure to bury the book on the very bottom of his trunk when he was finished with it – underneath the rest of his books – and to lock and ward the trunk against intruders. Just to make sure that no one would find out about him having the book.

He also made a mental note to practice the spell as often as he could – without the actual potion or the parchment – before he would use it on the actual parchment, as he had no clue how much he actually needed of the potion.  
With that decided and the list in his hand he left the dorm room in search of his friends.  
  
**oOo**  
  
“Hello Harry,” a soft but shy and cheerful voice sounded from behind him and Harry, who was snapped out of his thoughts by said voice, whirled around as quickly as he could from his spot in front of one of the many windows in the owlery without slipping on one of the many slippery heaps of owl faeces.

Harry had quickly found his friends after he had left the common room and they had helped him fill in the order form for the ingredients he needed. Luckily, most of the ingredients were legal and could be ordered from the small apothecary which could be found in Hogsmeade.

The rest of the ingredients, which consisted of the seeds of a plant and the horn of a bicorn, could be found either in one of the Greenhouses, according to Neville, or in Snape’s personal potion supplies.  
Neville and Harry had tried to come up with a way to get the bicorn horn without using the same method as Harry, Hermione and Ron had used in their second year, or something similar to that method, but they had failed, miserably so.

Luna had come to their rescue though and had told them that her father might have a couple of those horns because some of her, maybe imaginary, creatures were attracted to the smell of the horns. Harry and Neville had just shared a look at her words before Harry had asked her to write a letter to her father so he could send it off at the same time as his list.

He had just sent the list and the letter off with one of the school owls and he had just been enjoying the cool air when his thoughts had been interrupted.  
“Oh, hi Ginny,” he answered softly, almost awkwardly.  
“I talked to Hermione a couple of days ago and I wanted to talk to you,” Ginny said cheerfully, almost too cheerfully, and the shyness had left her voice, “So, how are you?”

Harry opened his mouth to respond but Ginny was a bit faster and said, still cheerfully, “that’s good. I was wondering, did you really get three O’s from Umbridge? You did right? Could you help me with DADA?”  
Harry opened his mouth to answer but Ginny interrupted him once again, “Great, thanks. Bye Harry!”  
And she turned around and walked away, just as quickly as she had apparently arrived. Harry called after her but she either didn’t hear him or ignored him.

Harry stopped calling after a couple of seconds, after he was sure that she couldn’t hear her anymore, before he turned back towards the window with a annoyed groan, wondering how he could inform her that he couldn’t help her because he needed _all_ of his free time to make the potion.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Voldemort hissed softly in irritation as he came back from watching the Malfoy heir’s memories.  
“M-My Lord?” Lucius asked softly, his voice laced with his fear for his son.  
“Your son was a fool,” Voldemort said, still irritated, “he _underestimated_ the owl.”

“My Lord?” Lucius asked clearly confused.  
“I want to know everything you can find about the Potter boy,” Voldemort commanded and his magic spiked with his irritation, “and I want you to send McDoul to me as soon as you see him.”  
“Yes, my Lord,” Lucius said and he bowed deeply, “My Lord?”  
“Lucius?” his voice held a clear warning and Lucius shivered slightly.

“What am I looking for, My Lord?” Lucius asked.  
“Everything,” Voldemort hissed, his irritation still evident, “I want to know where he lives, what he reads, what kind of pets he has had, who his friends are and what his talents are… and everything else you can find!”  
Lucius bowed and made his way towards the exit of the room.

“Oh, and Lucius,” Lucius paused and turned back towards his lord, “make sure that you ask Snape. He _is_ , after all, the boy’s teacher.”  
Lucius gave another bow and left the office. The door clicked immediately back into its lock, leaving him alone with his thoughts and plans.

Voldemort sat back in his chair and folded his skeletal hands together in front of him before he placed them almost absent-minded on his desk as he reflected on the memory he had just seen.  
The boy’s spell had been strong enough both times, so it should have overpowered the bird’s will. But the bird had somehow _fought_ the spell and it had won, twice!

He knew that, during his own Hogwarts years when he had wanted to buy a reliable and loyal owl, he had read in one of the many books that Hogwarts had that some owls were supposed to be smarter than others which could help them with avoiding spells and charms. He had also read that the bond the owl had with their owner could strengthen the owl’s own resistance against some spells, at least if the bond between owl and human was strong enough.

But having a resistance against the unforgivable was unheard of.  
He wondered briefly if the owl’s resistance had something to do with the Potter boy’s own resistance against the _Imperius_ , but he immediately dismissed that thought as impossible. But he could admit, in the very back of his mind, that that thought might carry the truth.  
  
**oOo**  
  
“Tell me, McDoul, what you have found out about the boy!” He spat angrily at the trembling man in front of him. The man, McDoul, had appeared almost an hour after Voldemort had given Lucius his new orders and he had been immediately placed under the Cruciatus curse by Voldemort.

He had vacated his office quickly after he had talked to Lucius because he would have destroyed it in his madness otherwise, simply because he was _late_. If he ordered you to come, or ordered someone to get you, you came. Immediately.

“I-I couldn’t find anything about the boy,” the man wailed in answer, “The Ministry doesn’t even know where he lives or with whom he lives!”  
“ _Crucio_ ,” Voldemort snarled once again, “That is the wrong answer! Even _Goyle_ appeared to know more about the Potter boy when I asked him questions than you do!”  
The man didn’t answer and Voldemort gleefully – though there was some annoyance present – doubted that he had heard him over his own screams.

He cancelled the curse and McDoul slumped back down on the floor, trembling violently and moaning and whining in pain.  
“Luckily for you, Lucius has need of you,” Voldemort hissed irritated, “So I won’t kill you. Yet.”  
The man hoisted himself on trembling knees and hands and crawled forward to kiss the hem of his robes, all the while mumbling the words: “Thank you, My Lord.” Under his breath.  
  
Voldemort sneered down on the man at his feet before he cast another Crucio at him for irritating him. He stopped the curse after a couple of minutes, when the man seemed to be about ready to lose his consciousness.  
“Now, leave!” he barked threateningly and McDoul, after a quick bow, scrambled away as fast as he could.  
  
Voldemort sighed and reclined back into his chair. After a couple of minutes – in which his anger and irritation hadn’t disappeared – he decided that he needed to blow of some steam, preferably not on some of his followers, since he might need them.  
So he stood from his comfortable chair and made his way towards his dungeons, which always contained a couple of prisoners, some of which could easily be _replaced_.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: not mine.

**Family ties  
  
Chapter 7  
**  
_Letters, books, spells …_  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry carefully removed the three pieces of parchment from the bowl and placed them – just as carefully – on the desk before he turned back to Neville. Neville had offered to test the potion and spell first to see if it worked the way it should work as he knew to whom he was related.

The ingredients he had ordered had arrived on Monday and the potion had been finished on Thursday. Harry had wanted to use it the moment he could – which would have been on Friday after the parchment had been soaked in the potion – but Neville and Luna had asked him to wait until the weekend. He had let himself be convinced after they had told him that – even though the book hadn’t mentioned them – they were not sure if there were any side effects. They really doubted there were any, but it was better to be safe than sorry.  
Harry had complained of course but he could wait an extra day.

“So where must I drop the blood?” Neville asked as he studied the parchment.  
“According to the book in the very middle of the parchment,” Harry told him after he had checked the book.

“Ten drops right?” Neville asked, his tone nervous but his hands were steady as he picked up the knife.  
“Yes,” Harry nodded slightly before he added, “thanks for testing the potion for me.”  
“That’s what friends are for, aren’t they,” Neville said smiling and Harry couldn’t help but smile back.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Neville said and he took a deep breath before he pierced his own finger with the knife. He grimaced slightly as he watched the fat drops well from his pierced finger before he turned his hand and squeezed the finger until ten drops had landed on the parchment.

“The spell?” He asked and Harry handed him the book.  
Neville pointed his wand at the centre of the parchment and spoke: “ _Monstro mei avi me_.”  
The spot the wand had been pointed at turned a dark blue and the blue colour spread until it was evenly spread over the parchment.

“And now we wait,” Harry said.  
  
**oOo**  
  
“Huh look at that, I’m related to Crouch,” Neville said grimacing.  
“Isn’t it some kind of crime to maim or hurt your own family members?” Harry asked curious, “No matter how distant.”  
“Not really,” Neville said wryly, “After all, my great-uncle Algie was allowed to drop me out of a window. And I was thought to be a squib… Anyway I probably wouldn’t have survived that without my magic…”  
Harry shot Neville an understanding look.

“At least we know that the potion and spell work,” he finally said weakly, “Can you hand me the knife?”  
Neville complied and handed him the knife and Harry cast a quick _Scourgify_   at it to clean the small spots of Neville’s blood away.

“Well, let’s see what my blood says shall we?” Harry said shakily. He was nervous and his hands shook terribly.  
“Do you want me to do it for you?” Neville asked worried, “Pierce your finger I mean? The way you are shaking you might slice it off!”  
Harry nodded and handed him the knife.

“Here goes,” Neville warned him and quickly drove the tip of the knife in Harry’s ring finger.  
Harry gave a soft noise of surprise and pain but immediately turned his finger and squeezed to make the blood fall on the clean sheet of parchment.  
The parchment turned blue and Harry stared at it, almost obsessively, though the nerves hadn’t left him.

“Let’s play a game of Exploding Snap shall we?” Neville asked, “If you keep staring at it, the wait will only be longer.”  
Harry nodded and followed Neville towards his bed, where Neville took out a package of cards.  
  
**oOo**  
  
It was almost ten minutes later and Harry, who had completely forgotten the time when they had been playing Exploding Snap – which had probably been Neville’s intention – almost ran towards the desk.

The parchment was almost white and his parents and his grandparents from his father’s side were already written down.  
“Huh, my grandmother was a Black,” he observed, “Sirius mentioned her, I think, I wonder how she was related to him.”

“I believe that Dorea Potter née Black was the sister of Narcissa Malfoy’s grandfather,” Neville said pensively, “but the Black’s are one of the most complicated families out there.”  
More lines appeared and Harry turned away from the parchment before he exclaimed horrified: “I’m related to Bulstrode!”

“Most Purebloods and some Half-bloods are connected to the Black family through marriage,” Neville said wryly, “though you are related to the Longbottoms thanks to one of my great-great-aunt, or something like that, marrying a Potter.”  
“Nice,” Harry said smiling, “I wonder if there are any Potter Family Trees. Do you know if there is something like a Potter Manor?”  
“There should be,” Neville told him pensively, “The Potter’s  are an ancient family after all.”  
Harry nodded before he said: “Well I guess that was everyone. Do you think I should burn everything we used?”

Neville turned back towards the parchment and opened his mouth to say something but closed it almost immediately, his eyes wide in surprise.  
Harry blinked before he asked worried: “Neville?”  
“Your mother is a muggleborn, right?” Neville asked weakly.  
“Yes, but you know that already, right?” Harry asked confused, “I mean, it is pretty common knowledge…”  
“And this ancestry potion and spell only shows magical people and beings, right?” Neville continued, his voice rather small, ignoring the question Harry had asked.

“Of course,” Harry asked and he shot his friend a weird look, “At least according to this book. Why do you ask?”  
“Your mother has two lines connecting to other people,” Neville said and he picked up the parchment, “Here I’ll read it out loud.”  
“Woah wait, you are saying that my mother is _not_ a muggleborn?” Harry exclaimed.  
“I guess so,” Neville said shrugging, “Your grandmother on her side is called Medea Athena Lamas… I can’t say that I’ve ever heard of her.”  
“She sounds foreign, Greek maybe,” Harry said,” and my grandfather?”

“One Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Neville said, “Can’t say I’ve heard of him either. His mothe- Harry, are you alright?”  
Harry didn’t react. His face had lost all colour and he had started to shake when he had heard that name.

“C-can you repeat that?” he whispered hoarse, his tone detached.  
“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Neville repeated confused and worried, “Harry, are yo-”  
“I-is his father mentioned?” Harry asked.  
Neville shot him another worried glance before he looked back towards the parchment, “No he isn’t mentioned. Do you know him?”

But Harry didn’t react as his mind shut down completely, only repeating the words grandfather and Tom Marvolo Riddle.  
He faintly heard Neville call for him, but it was too distant a sound. He felt two hands shake him but he ignored them, far too shocked to react.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
“Luna, Luna!” Neville shouted almost breathlessly as he ran into the clearing of the forest, a place where the three of them would sit when the weather was nice and their homework was done.  
“Hello Neville,” the blonde’s dreamy voice came from behind him and Neville spun quickly to face her, “Where is Harry? Did the potion work?”

“It worked,” Neville said hoarsely, “But something happened and Harry is in shock… I had to leave him behind alone so I could search for you and I’m not quite sure what to do…”  
He stopped to gasp for breath and to calm himself down.

“Why did he panic?” Luna said visibly worried and the dreamy quality had left her voice.  
“His mother isn’t muggleborn, but he only started to act weird when he heard his grandfather’s name,” Neville said, “The guy’s name sounded like a Muggle name…”

Luna shook her head slightly and said, suddenly serious, “Why don’t we go back to Harry and see what we can do?”  
Neville nodded and together they left the clearing, Luna’s bag and items forgotten in their haste to reach their friend.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry stared at the third piece of parchment, which had been blank just minutes ago, in disbelieve.  
He hadn’t believed the results of the potion so he had tried it again on the third piece of parchment which they had soaked – it had originally been intended for Luna but she had declined – only for the potion and the spell to come up with the exact same results.

“Harry?” Luna’s voice sounded but Harry didn’t react, still trying to get over the fact that Voldemort, _the Dark Lord Voldemort_ , was apparently his _grandfather_.  
Suddenly two arms wrapped around him and squeezed softly to show that the person was there. He was gently directed to his bed where he was forced to sit down before he was joined by his friends.

“Will you tell us what shocked you?” Luna asked softly, “Or do you need a calming potion before you can answer?”  
Harry shook his head and handed her the parchment.  
“So your mother isn’t a muggleborn,” Luna said after she had inspected the parchment, “And you might have living family after all. Is it your grandfather that shocked you? Do you know him?”  
Harry nodded before he said bitterly: “Oh I know him alright. So does the rest of the world.”

Neville and Luna shared glances before Luna asked softly: “Who is he?”  
“Voldemort,” Harry said still bitterly before he started to laugh hysterically, “The Dark Lord Voldemort, the guy who has been after me since forever, is my grandfather!”  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Voldemort snarled silently at the papers in front of him.  
McDoul had given it to him the day before and had told him that it was all of the information that the Ministry had about one Harry James Potter.  
It wasn’t much. The only thing McDoul had found was his date of birth, which he already knew, the fact that he had used magic in front of Muggles twice, at which Voldemort had sneered, and who his parents and godfather were, which he had already known!  
The man should count himself lucky that Voldemort, and Lucius but he didn’t really matter, still needed him otherwise he would have killed him for failing him. _Again_!

A soft knock sounded and Voldemort growled softly as his thoughts were interrupted.  
“Come in,” he finally said and, with a wave of his hands, the door opened to admit Lucius.  
“I hope for you that you found something useful,” Voldemort hissed softly, but threateningly, in irritation, “because otherwise…”  
He trailed off but he knew that his threat was heard as Lucius bowed down.

“I’ve asked my son for information on the Potter boy, My Lord,” He told him proudly, and Voldemort couldn’t help but feel the pang in his chest as he thought of his own child but he quickly buried the thoughts back into the deepest pits of his mind. The very thought of her had started to return more and more often and he couldn’t comprehend why. So he ignored it as well as he could.

“Do you want me to tell you what he wrote down for you, My Lord, or do you want to read it yourself?”  
Voldemort pondered the question before he made a small gesture for Lucius to continue.  
Lucius cleared his throat and pulled a rather large piece of parchment from one of the pockets of his cloaks.

“First of all, the boy is a rather gifted flier and a rather gifted seeker,” Lucius said and Voldemort hissed in irritation at the seemingly useless information before he motioned for Lucius to continue.  
“Second is that the boy is said to have saved to Philosopher’s Stone from one of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers in his first year. You, of course, already know about how he managed to win the Triwizard Tournament with Crouch’s help,” Lucius suddenly blinked, “Potter also seems to have mastered the Patronus charm in his third year because of the Dementors which were stationed around the school at the time.”

Voldemort made a thoughtful sound before he said: “Was there more?”  
“Yes, there is one last thing,” Lucius said softly, almost fearfully, “In Potter’s second year, when the Chamber was opened…”  
Voldemort hissed angrily and Lucius cowered down.

“Continue,” Voldemort told him, once again irritated.  
Lucius took a deep breath before he did what Voldemort had ordered him to do, continue: “The fraud, Lockheart, had organised some kind of a ‘Duel training evening’ and, thanks to Snape and Lockheart, Draco had to duel Potter.”

“And the point to this story is?” Voldemort hissed angrily, “Don’t waste my time with useless stories! Is this about the fact that the boy can duel? Because I already know that he has some _experience_ with duelling.”  
“Er, that was not the point, My Lord,” Lucius said quickly, “During the duel, Draco summoned a snake and the fraud somehow sent it towards another student, a Hufflepuff mudblood according to Draco. Potter ordered the snake to stop the attack.”

“Potter ordered the snake to stop? In English?” Voldemort couldn’t help the amused snort that escaped him, “Like a noble creature like that would listen to a language like that!”  
“No, My Lord,” Lucius said cautiously, “The boy, he is a Parselmouth. That’s how he opened the Chamber.”

Voldemort reared back with a shocked hiss.  
“Impossible, only Slytherin’s descendants are Parselmouths,” he muttered softly before he barked, “Leave, now!”

Lucius bowed down again and turned towards the door but Voldemort called towards him, “leave the parchment.”  
Lucius bowed again and handed him the parchment before he left and Voldemort quickly checked the list, only to see that Lucius had been right.

“It looks like I need to visit the boy’s mind after all,” he said softly and a cruel smirk made itself known.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: not mine.
> 
> Warnings: mind rape.

**Family ties  
  
Chapter 8  
**  
_Letters, books, spells …_  
**_Parseltongue …_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry couldn’t stop the hysterical laugh that kept spilling from his mouth.   
It was _ironic_ and weird and _disgusting_ to even think about the fact that Voldemort – snake-faced, freaky _Voldemort_ whom he had always seen as something like a force of evil – had somehow managed to reproduce and-   
His mind was going somewhere he wasn’t even willing to go. He wondered if his grandmother had been raped.  
  
Suddenly he realised that not only were the Dursleys not related to him – and he considered that a good thing – but it also meant that the closest living relative wanted to _kill_ him. And no one would want the grandchild of that, that _thing_ in their house.  
  
With that last thought his hysterical laughter – if one could even call it that – turned into tears of defeat and hopelessness and he hid his head into his hands as sobs wracked his body.  
  
Neville and Luna, in the meanwhile – he had actually forgotten about them being there with him – didn’t react as he had thought they would. Instead of freezing or jumping away in horror before running out of the dorm room screaming something along the lines of ‘Oh Merlin, the Dark Lord has somehow managed to reproduce and Harry Potter is the fruits of said reproduction – in a way anyway-’, at the top of their lungs, Luna shuffled closer and once again embraced him as she murmured soothing things into his ears in an attempt to comfort and calm him.  
  
Harry turned his attention – his eyes wide with shock, or mortification and every other emotion that would be appropriate in that particular situation, and tears – towards her, the surprise battling with the other emotions which were visible in his eyes.  
  
“Why-” he started hoarsely and he quickly wiped his eyes, red and puffy from his crying, with his sleeve.  
“You can’t really choose your family, now can you?” Neville answered for her and Harry’s gaze moved towards him, “Look at me, I would have liked to be _not_ related to Crouch or the Lestranges or other persons but I still am. So You-Know-Who being your grandfather – a thing you can do nothing about – means nothing to me.”

Luna nodded in agreement before she added airily: “I doesn’t change who you are. You are still the same Harry Potter as before, aren’t you? Being related to someone doesn’t automatically change you into that person.”  
Harry nodded slowly and he could feel himself relax into Luna’s embrace, slightly anyway.

“Now why don’t you take these two potions from Luna and try to get some sleep,” Neville said in a tone which was normally meant to sooth small children. Harry nodded weakly and took the purplish and the greenish potion from Luna, not even wondering how she got them.  
“What is it?” He asked softly, wearily.  
“A Calming Draught and a Dreamless Sleep potion,” Luna answered with her normal tone and airy smile, “The Humpfdingers told me that you would need them. You should take the purple one now and the green one when you wake up.”  
“Er, thanks Luna,” Harry said and he shot her a weak and watery smile before he gulped the mentioned potion down.  
  
The last thing he noticed before he slipped away into the arms of Morpheus was the look Neville and Luna shared and the softly spoken: “Sleep well, Harry.”  
  
**oOo**  
  
“Are you alright, mate?” Ron asked and Harry blinked owlishly at him before he rubbed his scar. It had been hurting for days, almost as long as he had found out about _that_.  
“Sorry, did you say something?” he asked him, still slightly dazed.   
  
It had been almost three days since he had found out that Voldemort was his grandfather and he still freaked out when he thought about it. Though the Calming Draughts he took every couple of hours did help and he did manage to bury the knowledge deep within his own mind. Most of the time, anyway.  
  
“I asked if you are alright,” Ron said, slightly accusing, “You looked all dazed and such and you didn’t even react when I asked if you wanted to play chess!”  
“I’m sorry,” Harry said and he shot him a small, apologetic smile, “I was _thinking_. And Neville asked me to help him with his DADA after dinner so I was waiting for him…”  
Ron visibly deflated and a heavy silence fell.  
  
“Where is Hermione?” Harry asked after a couple of awkward minutes in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence. Before their fight the silence would have been normal and comfortable, even if they didn’t speak each other that often. But now it was just awkward and heavy.  
“She said something about needing to speak to McGonagall,” Ron said shrugging, “You don’t happen to have something to eat, do you?”  
Harry shook his head in answer and another uncomfortable silence fell.  
  
He wondered briefly what had changed between them – except for their fight over DADA and his marks and the fact that his two best friends were dating – and it took him a couple of seconds before he realised that _he_ had been the one that had changed.  
  
Due to the fact that his friends had started to date he had to revert back to how he had been before he had come to Hogwarts and before he had become friends with someone like Ron – who was incredibly childishly and laid back – and someone like Hermione – who was pushy but who was also the one who made them lazy by always handing them the answers.  
  
Before Hogwarts he used to be independent and he always looked after himself to make sure that he survived the behaviour and the happenings at the Dursleys and to make sure that no one knew what happened at his so-called ‘home’.  
Hogwarts – and especially Gryffindor – had changed that and he sometimes couldn’t help but wonder if the Sorting Hat hadn’t been right. Maybe Slytherin would have been the best House for him after all.  
  
Someone called his name and he looked up only to see Neville with a large pile of books and one of his many plants. Harry let a small, fond smile appear on his face before he stood and made his way over to his – dare he say it – best friend.  
  
“Need help?” He asked and he gestured towards the pile of books.  
“Yes please,” Neville said gratefully, “I feared that I would drop my Screechsnap and that would have been bad.”  
“What does it do?” Harry asked curious as he took half of Neville’s books.  
“It makes a ruckus when something happens to it or to its surrounding,” Neville said with a grimace, “And it can move around.”  
Harry took another look at the small, green, almost normal looking plant.  
“Must be useful,” he finally said but the doubt was easily noticeable in his voice.

Neville smiled slightly at him before he said: “let’s start with DADA shall we?”  
Harry nodded and together they left for the library.  
  
**oOoOoOo  
**  
It was the beginning of December and Harry, Neville and Ron sat together at one of the small, round tables in the Divination Classroom in the North Tower.  
Trelawney looked shaken by something and – much to the amusement of the students – jumped at every small sound. She had already dropped her tea cup twice due to one of the Slytherins making Umbridge’s signature ‘hum hum’ sounds.  
  
“Today you are going to continue with your dream oracles!” Trelawney told them almost hysterical. The class stared at her before they finally started to move.  
  
“What is wrong with her?” Ron asked Harry softly.  
“Don’t know. Umbridge, probably,” Harry told him absently as he once again rubbed his scar. The pain had been a constant nuisance but nothing he tried helped.   
  
“Neville, had any interesting dreams lately?” he asked lightly as he turned to look at the brown-haired boy.  
“Nothing much,” Neville answered before he yawned, “Something about a plant and a greenhouse.”  
Harry paged to his book uninterested before he said: “maybe it means that you’ll become the new Herbology professor?”  
Neville immediately perked up: “That would be great!”  
  
The rest of the hour was spent talking about what they wanted to do with their lives after they had graduated.  
  
It was ten minutes before the end of the lesson that Trelawney decided that the dream oracles should be discussed in the class.  
  
“Mister Potter, why don’t you tell us of your most resent dream?” She asked him tremblingly and Harry sighed, both because she always asked him and because she _still_ acted as if Umbridge would jump out of the shadows the moment she would relax.  
  
“Nothing much, I’m afraid,” Harry told the woman and the Slytherins sniggered at his misfortune as Trelawney looked at him disapprovingly. When did she turn into a McGonagall?  
“Though I do remember flying above the Lake with the rest of the Gryffindor Team during a Gryffindor- Slytherin match and seeing one of the Slytherins fall into said Lake after we won the match,” Harry said before he grinned roguishly at the Slytherins. The Gryffindors laughed openly at the looks the Slytherins suddenly sported.  
  
“Hm, Gryffindor and Slytherin have a rivalry between them,” Trelawney said pensively, “and you won? This means that you will fight a close rival of yours and win.”  
Harry couldn’t help the smirk that appeared on his face.  
  
“And then one of the Slytherins fell into the lake?” Trelawney asked, “Was it someone from the team of someone else?”  
“Someone of the team,” Harry said, “One of the beaters, I don’t know his name though.”  
  
Trelawney seemed to sink into deep thought and Neville asked Harry softly: “You just made that up, didn’t you?”  
Harry nodded at him, a small smile on his face as he opened his mouth to react.  
  
“The Lake stands for the fear of people,” Trelawney suddenly said and Harry quickly closed his mouth, “the fact that someone who is normally strong and used to fighting back – like a beater is supposed to do – falls into the Lake means that what you fear the most will happen soon.”  
   
Harry felt the blood leave his face and his thought flicker back to the knowledge he had discovered just weeks ago.  
“Now, who else wants to share… Dear boy, are you alright?” Trelawney asked Harry concerned, “My prediction doesn’t scare you, does it? You can’t help it, dear boy, it will come to pass anyway.”  
  
The Slytherins looked like they wanted to say something but the bell rang at that moment and all of the students quickly packed their bags and left the sweet smelling and searing hot room gladly. Except Harry – who was still too pale – and Neville, who was looking worriedly at his friend.  
  
**oOo  
**  
His headache became worse with each passing day until one day – almost a week after Divination – he simply collapsed, screaming and clawing at his scar.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
It had taken him weeks before he finally managed to completely batter the few defences the Potter boy’s mind had. He hadn’t been gentle. In fact, he had been downright cruel in his attempt to get full access to the boy’s mind. And he was sure that the boy would have noticed him destroying his natural mental shields in form of one, hopefully painful, headache.  
  
He sincerely hoped that he was long enough sane to fully read the boy’s mind until he found every single secret he could use to destroy him.   
So far he had only found out about the boy’s friends and family, where he lived, with whom and how much he detested the Muggles - and their questionable _behaviour_ towards him - with whom he lived.  
  
Voldemort had felt a small spark of sympathy before he had ruthlessly crushed it with his own rather formidable _Occlumency_ shields. Sympathy was not something that Dark Lords were supposed to feel for their enemy. Not that he was supposed to feel sympathetic for anyone else.  
  
After that he stumbled upon the interesting things. Like the full behaviour of his Muggle guardians, the boy’s side of their meeting during the boy’s first year, the fact that the Chamber of Secret had been opened – though the child’s mind wouldn’t tell him the how, the why or who had dared to open what belonged to him – and the fact that _someone_ had gone against his direct _orders_! The Chamber shouldn’t have been opened at all but he could wait until after he had finished the boy to deal with that. But Lucius should have known _better_ than to try and kill the boy. He would have wanted that honour for himself, after all.  
  
He also discovered that Lucius had been right about the fact that the boy was a Parselmouth and the fact that the boy was powerful; something he had already known.  
  
In his third dive he found the address of the Headquarters – If one could call it that – of the Order of the Phoenix and who were in it. He even discovered that Severus was in fact a _double_ spy, and not as loyal to him as he had thought. Something he should _rectify_ as soon as he could. That is, after he had taken every interesting fact out of the man’s brain.  
  
And then he found something shocking: the fact that the boy had used the very same ‘ritual’ that he had used when he had been a boy. For the exact same reason, in fact.   
  
He dug deeper to find the results only to rear back, shocked.  
He hesitantly checked again, only to see the exact same thing: the boy’s mother wasn’t a mudblood. In fact, she was as far from a mudblood as one could be.  
And more shockingly: he seemed to have found his thought-to-be lost daughter.  
  
He still had family left!


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: not mine.

**Family ties  
  
Chapter 9  
**  
_Letters, books, spells …_  
**_Parseltongue …_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
The Dark Lord pulled back out of the boy’s, his _heir_ ’s, mind almost gently. He couldn’t have his _heir_ \- and it felt weird to think that the boy he had been trying to kill for years was his heir - damaged, now could he? Not when there was a possibility that he could still use him, anyway.  
  
The boy being his heir also explained how he had managed to survive the killing curse. Slytherin had cast a spell on his bloodline – and he still wondered how he had done that – to make sure that the heirs of the bloodline couldn’t kill each other. Something he had done after one of his sons had killed his other, older brother – Slytherin’s first and main heir – to get the Slytherin money and power.

He did, however, wonder why his daughter hadn’t survived the curse. She was also from the Slytherin main line but he had been able to kill her, had done so in fact without ever knowing that she was his daughter.  
He decided to research that as soon as he had processed this new _information_.  
  
Voldemort wondered briefly what he should do. He knew that he couldn’t ignore what he had discovered; he couldn’t kill the boy himself after all.   
  
And that brought him onto an entire new topic: the prophecy. He knew that it referred to a boy who had been born at the very end of July, the seventh month. He also knew that he would _mark_ the boy, the lightning bolt scar, and that the parents would have defied him thrice. And his daughter and her husband had defied him three times.   
So everything still pointed towards the Potter boy, the only difference was that he couldn’t kill him. This meant he had to get his hands on the _rest_ of the prophecy. And maybe get the bringer of bad news – Snape – out of his way.  
  
He knew that he had two choices – even without the prophecy – when it came to the boy. The first one was that he could either let someone else kill the boy and ignore the fact that he had an heir. Or secondly, he could take – _force_ – the boy under his wing of influence and turn him into the perfect heir for a Dark Lord.  
   
But first he had to actually _get_ the boy, which was far more important regardless of the option he chose. Luckily, it was far easier now that he had found out that he was his grandson.  
   
He sighed, decision made: he would order someone to bring him the prophecy and he would take the boy and truly make him his heir.  
After all: heirs were everything to purebloods and he _was_ his heir, whether either of them liked it or not. Besides, the boy held quite a lot of political power in his hands, something he could use.  
  
But – though he would never admit it – somewhere deep inside his twisted and destroyed soul, he wanted the boy because he was _family_.   
Something Tom Riddle had always wanted ever since he had been a very young child and he had found out what having a family – a family of his own one that wouldn’t hurt or betray him – meant. And he knew that this was his last chance.  
  
**oOo**  
  
“Lucius,” he hissed in greeting and he inclined his head minutely towards one of the chairs in front of his desk.  
“My Lord,” the blonde said stiffly and he bowed deeply before he sat down, “You asked for me?”

“ _Yesss_ , I’ve a couple of tasks for you,” he told him softly, “first of all, I need you to get me the birth certificates of both Lily Potter and Harry Potter. I want the magical birth certificates, not the _muggle_ ones.”  
“Of course, My Lord,” Lucius said. Voldemort wondered if he was curious at his demand but he knew that the blonde lord in front of him would never ask, either out of fear or out of courtesy.  
  
“I also want five flasks of Polyjuice potion from Snape,” Voldemort continued and he felt a flare of anger as he mentioned the traitor.  
“What should I tell him, My Lord?” Lucius asked politely.  
“Nothing,” he hissed harshly, “And make sure that they are usable. Meaning: I want _real_ Polyjuice potion and not something that looks like it. Make sure that it is _not_ poisoned.”  
“Yes, My Lord,” Lucius said, and Voldemort saw the shiver run down his spine, “Anything else, My Lord?”  
  
“Hmm, oh yes,” Voldemort said before he drew his wand and pointed it at Lucius, “ _Crucio_!”  
Lucius sagged down his chair and onto the ground; screaming and jerking from the pain.  
It was a couple of minutes later that Voldemort finally cancelled the curse.  
  
“Do you know why I cursed you?” Voldemort asked silkily.  
“N-no M-my L-lord,” the Malfoy Lord said shakily.  
“Let me give you a hint,” Voldemort continued, ignoring the way the blonde shivered as he carefully lifted himself up from the ground and back on the chair, “it has something to do with the happenings at the end of the Potter boy’s second year and a certain green spell. Does that ring a bell, hmm?”  
  
The blonde turned pale, even paler than he already was, and stuttered: “I-I, it d-didn’t mean to k-kill him. I just- Dumbledore.”  
He sneered down at him, “care to explain how the Chamber of Secrets had been opened?”   
The Malfoy Lord paled even further, “t-the b-book you g-gave me-”  
“Yesss, my diary,” Voldemort said coldly, “The one I gave you to keep safe at all times. So why was it in Hogwarts?”  
“I-I…” Lucius stammered and he let himself drop on the floor and kneeled down, “I wanted to…”

“Choose your next words carefully,” Voldemort interrupted him harshly, “While you might be useful, you’re not indispensable.”  
“I just wanted to bring you back,” the man whimpered.  
“ _LIESSS_ ,” Voldemort hissed angrily, “You wanted to use it for your own gain! But I’ll forgive you, _this_ time. If you bring me a full report of what happened during that year and the state of my diary.”

The man crawled forward and kissed the hem of his robe. Voldemort sneered at the sight before he barked: “Now, get out and do as I ordered.”  
Lucius immediately scrambled back upon his feet, shakily, before he bowed down and almost ran out of his office.  
  
**oOo**  
  
He considered the page in front of him, wondering why he had never thought of it before. In clear script stood that the curse on the Slytherin line protected the heirs – _heirs_ , in that time meaning the _males_ , all of the males – of a Family line. After all, it were the males who continued the name and thus the line.

It explained why he could kill his own daughter but couldn’t kill his grandson, she wasn’t considered an heir by the curse because she was female.  
He sighed almost mournfully and slammed the ancient book shut. He rose and, with a flick of his wand, sent the books back to their spot in the library.

With one last sigh he left the library as he knew that he couldn’t change the past and that he could never bring back his own daughter or his own beloved.  
  
**oOo**  
  
“WORMTAIL,” Voldemort barked, his voice magical amplified, as soon as he sat back down in his throne.  
It took almost two minutes before the bald, rat like man finally entered the throne room.  
“Y-you c-called M-my L-lord?” he stuttered, and he quickly kneeled down in front of him.

“Yesss, you’re late,” he hissed displeased, “ _Crucio!_ ”  
Wormtail immediately fell down entirely and started to scream like a pig whose throat had been sliced.  
Voldemort stopped the curse after a couple of seconds after he had enough if the screaming.

“Your arm, Wormtail,” he commanded and the man pushed himself shakily onto his knees and crawled towards him. The moment he was in front of him he pulled his sleeve up and presented the Dark Mark to him.  
He pushed the Dark Mark harshly, revelling in the moans of pain the coward emitted, and hissed softly the name: **_“McDoul”_**  
“You’re dismissed,” he told the rat like man in front of him before he reclined back into his throne, waiting for the called Death Eater.  
  
He only had to wait a couple of seconds before McDoul entered the throne room in a jog.  
“You called for me, My Lord?” He asked after he had bowed down.  
“Yes, I’ve a task for you,” Voldemort said curtly, “you make magical family tapestries and papers for the Ministry and rich purebloods, don’t you?”  
“Yes My Lord,” the man said.

“Good,” Voldemort murmured satisfied, “Do you know how to make a tapestry that looks _used_?”  
“My Lord?” the man asked confused.  
“I’m in need of a family tapestry for the Slytherin line,” Voldemort told him, “And it has to look old and used, but authentic. Do you know how to make it?”  
“Yes, My Lord,” McDoul said, “All I need is some blood of the Head of the line, though…”

He trailed off as he saw the glint in Voldemort’s eyes.  
“Or, I could give you the blank tapestry and the spell,” the man quickly hastened to say.  
“Good,” Voldemort hissed satisfied, “You have a day. I want it tomorrow around this time!”  
“Yes, My Lord,” McDoul said and he bowed down, “Is there something else I can do?”  
“You’re dismissed,” Voldemort said curtly.  
The man nodded and bowed down one last time before he left, leaving Voldemort to contemplate the plans he had created to get his hands on the boy. Permanently.  
  
It was only a day later that he finally realised that, during the entire time in which his mind had been preoccupied with plans to get and train the boy, his _heir_ , he had never lost his mind to the madness with which it was normally consumed.  
  
**oOo**  
  
It was two days later that he stepped out of the lift and into the Ministry, looking like the fifty year old version of Tom Riddle and with a thick dossier under his arm.  
He looked around before he walked towards the entrance to the actual building.

“Sir, may I have your wand and you name, please?” a wizard asked and he stopped and turned towards the wizard who sat behind the front office. The man shrugged at his inquiring expression and mumbled: “precautionary procedure.”  
“Of course,” Voldemort murmured and pulled out his wand and handed it to the wizard, “Here you go. Tom Riddle.”

The wizard took it carefully and placed it into a weird, golden tube which pinged after a couple of seconds. A small piece of parchment appeared and the wizard took out the wand before he read out loud: “Hawthorne and the hair of a Thestral owned by one Tom Marvolo Riddle. That is your name and the properties of your wand, correct?”  
Voldemort just nodded.

“Okay, you get this,” the man handed his wand back and Voldemort quickly put it back into his holder, “And I keep this.”   
And he threw the small piece of paper in the fire next to him after which he turned back towards Voldemort.  
“Have a nice day.”  
Voldemort nodded at him before he made his way into the Ministry and towards the elevators.

Lucius had told him which floor he should have and what he should bring if he wanted to claim someone as family. So Voldemort was fully prepared.  
He quickly entered the first elevator that arrived and asked the only other person, a woman with bright pink hair and unnatural blue eyes, politely and charmingly to push the button which would bring him to the correct floor.

The woman did as asked and he gave her one of his charming, but fake, smiles which caused the woman the blush a bright red and she seemed about ready to swoon.   
Voldemort couldn’t help but smirk mentally and he started, maybe for the very first time, to really regret ever making those horcruxes. For they might bring him immortality but they also brought him a large amount of setbacks: like losing his mind and his good looks, which had both helped him with convincing people that they should support him and his ideas.

He decided there and then that, if the boy would follow him and become the heir he wanted and needed, he might be tempted to find a way to absorb all of his horcruxes, except one or two. But only if the boy would follow him, listen to his every word, and act as he wanted him to do, maybe even care about him, and all of that willingly.  
And he would at least keep one horcrux as a precaution.

The elevator pinged and he quickly left it after a insincere, not that she would ever know that, goodbye towards the woman. He took the necessary walk towards the office for Child and Family Matters and politely knocked before he entered.

A rather plain looking woman asked, without even bothering to look up from her paperwork, in a nasal voice almost rudely: “Can I help you?”  
Voldemort raised his eyebrow at her tone but nodded, in full knowledge that she wouldn’t see it, and said politely: “I’ve found out rather recently that I’ve a grandson whose parents have died. I want to claim custody of him.”

The woman sighed before she placed her quill down and said, “Name of the child and papers please.”  
Voldemort smirked before he placed the thick folder in front of her and said: “Harry Potter. I want to claim custody of Harry Potter.”  
The woman finally looked up, her eyes wide in shock.  
“And I sincerely hope for you that this stays within this office,” Voldemort said as his smirk turned predatory.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry yawned and rubbed his eyes as he seated himself next to Neville, who greeted him cheerfully before he took another bite of his toast. Harry just grunted in reply before he helped himself to some eggs and bacon.

Loud screeches sounded from above the students and owls streamed into the Great Hall looking for their owners or for those whom they carried letters for.  
Harry studied the sky for a couple of seconds but dismissed the owls after he noticed that Hedwig, whom he had sent with a letter to Sirius and Remus, hadn’t returned yet.  
  
A couple of minutes later, in which Harry finally managed to wake up somewhat, a large eagle owl landed in front of him and Harry blinked curiously at the owl, who stuck out its leg. Harry carefully removed the letter which was bound to it before he fed the owl some of his bacon.  
The owl hooted in thanks, boggled down the bacon and took off and Harry watched until it had disappeared into the large flock of birds above him before he turned towards the letter.

“Who is it from?” Neville asked curiously at which Harry just shrugged as he turned the envelope around.  
“The Ministry, apparently,” he answered after he noticed the tiny logo in the top corner of the envelope.  
He carefully broke the seal, removed the letter and opened it.  
  
Suddenly he paled dramatically and he dropped the letter, his hands shaking and his eyes wide and terrified.  
“Harry?” Neville asked concerned.  
“H-he found out,” Harry whispered softly. Neville shot him a concerned look before he carefully took the letter from the table.

“Trelawney was right…” Harry whispered horrified, “Voldemort found out.”


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: not mine.

**Family ties  
  
Chapter 10  
**  
_Letters, books, spells …_  
**_Parseltongue …_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Neville winced as he heard another loud crash and he couldn’t help but wonder what had been destroyed this time. The last time he had checked upon Harry all of the beds had been turned upside down and ripped apart and the pillows and blankets had been completely annihilated by Harry’s raging magic.  
He just hoped that their personal items had survived - and would survive - Harry’s fury.  
  
Neville couldn’t help but be worried about his - dare he say it - best friend. Harry had been shaking and panicking after he had gotten the letter and even a Calming Draught - which they had given him after they had managed to get him to their dorm room without anyone noticing - couldn’t calm him down.

After a couple of minutes though, his mood had changed into terrible fury and his magic had started to whip around him, destroying everything it touched.  
He and Luna – who had joined him immediately as soon as she had found out about You-Know-Who adopting Harry – had tried to calm him down, sadly to no avail, after which they had just fled the dorm room. He was just glad that no one was in the common room on the moment and that they didn’t have any lessons until that afternoon.  
  
Neville knew that they had to calm Harry down somehow but the options were limited. They could either knock him out, which was not preferable since it would only anger him even more once he regained consciousness, get him something stronger than just a Calming Draught or get him to accept the fact that he had been adopted by the man who had killed his parents _before_ someone – meaning the teachers, some of the other students or Dumbledore – found out. And preferably _before_ Harry had completely destroyed the dorm room.  
  
“Should we go and ask Madame Pomfrey for something stronger than the Calming Draught?” he asked Luna, who winced as another loud crash sounded, softly.  
“No, if we go to her the Nargles will inform the Headmaster about Harry,” she answered airily, though she couldn’t keep the worried tone completely out of her voice, from her spot on the stairs.  
“Of course,” Neville said dryly, “how could I’ve forgotten about the Nargles.”  
“It’s very easy, they are nasty little buggers after all,” Luna said and she smiled at him, “we could ask the Porlocks to help him see that You-Know-Who is better than the Dursleys.”  
“Or we could do it ourselves,” Neville said dryly, “but first, we have to get him _out_ of his stupor. And make sure that his magic doesn’t hurt us…”  
  
Luna nodded as she stood.  
“His magic won’t hurt us as long as we pose no threat to him,” she said but she sounded truly worried.  
“Another Calming Draught?” Neville asked softly but she shook her head.  
“We could yell at him,” she said as she walked up the stairs, “and hope that he hears us.”  
“Yes, like that’s going to work,” Neville muttered sarcastically but he followed her nonetheless.

Together they entered the dorm room and Neville couldn’t help the soft, shocked sound which left his mouth.  
The dorm room had been completely and utterly destroyed from what he had heard but he couldn’t see anything of the damage. It seemed that Harry had somehow managed to calm himself enough to repair the damage his magic had brought, but he still seemed angry beyond words.  
“Harry?” he called and the green-eyed boy’s attention snapped towards them.  
  
“You have to snap out of it, Harry,” Luna said seriously once she was sure that she had Harry’s attention, “You-Know-Who can’t be as bad as the Dursleys.”  
“He can kill me or torture me the moment I’m alone with him,” Harry said harshly, “or once I’m alone with him and his Death Eaters.”  
“No, he can’t,” Neville said calmly, “the Ministry inspects the homes of adopted people for the first couple of years. And they check the people that want to adopt… but I guess it really doesn’t matter if one is a Dark Lord.”

“Yes, because _he_ cares _so_ much about the laws!” Harry said sarcastically but he seemed to deflate as he dropped upon his bed face down, “I just hoped that either you or Ron was related to me…”  
It was almost inaudible but they both managed to catch his words.  
“We know,” Neville said soothingly, “but while I know _who_ has adopted you, look at it from this angle: you’re Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. I don’t believe that the Ministry would forget about you. And I don’t believe, as weird as that sounds, that You-Know-Who will kill you.”  
“Why do you think that?” Harry asked warily as he sat up and he finally seemed to have calmed down, “It’s not like he cares about me!”

“Heirs are everything to purebloods,” Neville pointed out, “You _are_ his heir. It would look bad if he killed you. It would probably cost him the support of the pureblood families.”  
Harry considered his words before he nodded slowly.  
“But it doesn’t mean that I like it!” he finally grumbled and he carefully lifted himself from his bed, “thanks, you guys.”

Luna and Neville smiled at him, and together they left the dorm room to make their way towards the Great Hall for lunch and to follow their lessons.  
  
**oOo**  
  
Harry knew that he had been a moody little bastard for the last two days but he couldn’t really blame himself, after all who would have been happy about being adopted by the bloody Dark Lord who had killed their parents?  
A soft smile made itself known as he caught sight of Neville, who had asked him to leave for breakfast by himself because he had forgotten something in their dorm room. Something he had apparently lost.

“Did you find it?” he asked as soon as Neville sat down next to him.  
“Luckily,” Neville muttered as he grabbed some toast, “I’ve seen evidence of her detentions and it is _not_ something I would like to try.”  
“Aren’t blood quills illegal?” Harry asked curious as he took Neville’s essay and read through it, “I think they were banned in the early nineteen hundreds for normal use and the only exception to this law was Gringotts.”

“How do you know all that stuff?” Neville asked curious before he mentioned towards his essay, “It’s good enough, right?”  
Harry nodded distractedly, “I researched them after I found out about Umbridge using them. And yes, you mentioned enough stupid biased things, if that is what you were wondering.”  
“Good,” Neville said relieved, “Have you seen Luna?”  
“She had to talk to Flitwick about something,” Harry said at the same time as an owl landed in front of him. He stared warily at the owl and finally asked: “Who do you think it’s from?”  
  
Neville shrugged and carefully removed the letter from the owl’s leg. The owl looked between the two of them before it lifted itself back into the air and left.  
He made a move to hand Harry the letter but Harry stopped him and quickly cast a spell on the letter.  
“I should have done that before you took it,” he muttered, “but at least it’s safe…”  
And he took the letter from Neville and opened it, only to see a strangely familiar, neat script.  
  
_‘To my heir,  
I’m aware of the fact that the Ministry has already sent you the letter stating that I’ve claimed you as my grandson and heir, which makes me your magical guardian. Therefore, there are a couple of things which you need to know and, of course, a couple of rules you need to abide. There are more rules then stated below but I’ll notify you about them once we meet face to face._

_First of all: I’ll not kill, maim or torture you, neither mentally or physically nor will I let someone else hurt, kill, maim or torture you. I expect, therefore, that you’ll not try to harm, maim, kill or hurt me or my Death Eaters either._

_Second: you are my heir and you’ll learn to act like it. Which means that you’ll do as I say and act as I want you to act. There will be consequences if you don’t obey my words._

_I know that your Christmas holiday will start shortly and I want you to write down that you’ll be going home. And with ‘home’ I mean that I’ll pick you up from the station and take you with me to your new home. You’ll never go back to those muggles you call family.  
All your other holidays will be spend with me in our home._

_Third: you’ll not tell anyone about you being my heir, especially not Dumbledore or your teachers. I’ll make an exception for your friends since I’m aware of the fact that they probably already know of the fact that we are related. I want to know who you inform about said relationship, however._

_I’ll warn you once again against disobeying me and I await your response._  
Lord Voldemort.’  
  
“Ugh,” Harry groaned and he quickly placed the letter back down, making sure that no one could see what was written down.  
“Bad news?” Neville asked curious.  
“Horrible news,” Harry moaned, “here, read it yourself.”  
Neville picked the letter up and quickly read it.

“At least he promised to not hurt you,” Neville said weakly, “what do you think he means with ‘I await your response’?”  
“He actually didn’t promise to not hurt me,” Harry pointed out, “he promised not to kill, maim or torture me. He never said anything about not hurting me. And I’ve no clue as to what he expects as response. Do you think I should owl Sirius and Lupin about this mess?”  
“I wouldn’t do that,” Neville said softly, “I would heed his warning if I were you, because he hasn’t said anything about not hurting your friends or the people you consider family. He just promised not to harm you.”  
Harry opened his mouth but Neville said: “Yes I know he has never mentioned to not _not_ hurt you. Why don’t you ask him?”  
  
Harry spluttered but didn’t react as Ron and Hermione sat down across them.  
“Hey mate,” Ron greeted him cheerfully and both Harry and Neville grunted in response.  
“Did you finish Umbridge’s horrid essay?” Ron asked as he put as much food on his plate as he could before he started to stuff his mouth, “Cfan I bfowwow if?”  
“I don’t think he could understand that, Ronald,” Hermione scolded him, “and you should have finished that essay yourself. Besides, we’ve only gotten ten minutes before we have to go to the class room…”

Ron scowled at her but kept stuffing his face.  
Harry and Neville shared looks and both stood. Harry quickly grabbed Voldemort’s letter and put it in his bag as they made their way out of the Great Hall.  
  
“Are you going to answer the letter?” Neville asked curiously as soon as they were out of hearing range.  
“Probably,” Harry said softly, “I mean, it’s not like I can ignore him, especially since he can _force_ me to come to his house or manor every holiday. Or he could pull me out of Hogwarts all together. I can do nothing to stop him if he wants to pull me out… And not even Dumbledore could keep me here if that’s the case.”

“We will find a way,” Neville said soothingly, “besides, it’s only for two years. After you’ve turned seventeen you are considered an adult…”  
“Like he would care about that,” Harry stated bitterly, “Will you help me with the letter?”  
“It will be my pleasure,” Neville said and he grinned at him.  
  
**oOoOoOo  
**  
It had been a day since he had sent a letter to the boy and he still hadn’t gotten an answer.  
He knew that the boy would try to rebel against him or ignore the letter altogether, but he hoped that the boy would be smart enough to realise that it would be best for his friends and family if he did what he was told. After all, he only promised to not maim, torture or kill the boy.  
He also secretly hoped that the boy noticed the missing word ‘hurt’ or ‘harm’. After all, if he did it would mean that he had at least _some_ Slytherin qualities, since no Gryffindor would have noticed it missing.  
  
He stood gracefully from his chair and quickly left his study, which he locked as soon as he had left it.  
He made his way towards his personal library and immediately searched for books about heirs, since he had no clue as to what a heir was supposed to do or how an heir should act. And he wanted the boy to be the perfect heir, even if it meant that he had to go against every single rule that existed.  
  
**oOo**  
  
It was almost twenty minutes after he had finally finished his list with things he had to teach the boy, that an nondescript, brown owl landed in front of him, carrying a letter written on cheap parchment with common black ink.  
He quickly released the owl of its burden and opened the letter, only to sneer as he noticed the messy handwriting of his heir. He immediately added ‘writing’ to his list.  
  
‘ _Voldemort,_  
Fine, I’ll tell them that I’ll go ‘home’ but don’t expect me to like it.  
And I won’t write that down until you swear that you won’t hurt or harm me, don’t think I didn’t notice the missing word, especially since you did mention it in the sentence after that one.  
And I want an oath that you won’t harm my friends or the people I consider my family.  
Harry Potter’  
  
Voldemort felt his sneer become more heavy as he read the letter and he was snarling when he had finished it.   
No heir of him would ever write a letter like that ever again. It was rude and it would most certainly anger people.  
  
He added ‘correspondence’ on his list and rechecked it, after which he added ‘coherence’ and ‘speech’.  
He drew back content and turned back to the letter only to burn it in annoyance.


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the original story.

**Family ties  
  
Chapter 11  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Days went by, rather slowly, and the Christmas holiday was nearing. Harry, who still hadn’t gotten a reply from his _beloved_ grandfather, was starting to grow nervous, as he _still_ hadn’t told anyone that he was going ‘home’. Not that he considered whatever hell-hole Voldemort deemed home _his_ _home_. Hell, he didn’t even consider the Dursleys’ house ‘home’.

McGonagall had asked them all to write down whether they were going to stay or if they were going home the day before and Harry had asked her if he could write it down as soon as he had a reply. He just hadn’t told her _who_ he had written or _what_ he meant with ‘home’ though.   
She had agreed, on the condition that he would inform her of his decision either today or tomorrow.  
  
He sighed softly as he closed his book, certain that he wouldn’t get the work done as he was too nervous and too distracted to fully concentrate on the assignments.  
He had decided to go to the library as the Gryffindor common room, and the persons it held, reminded him of Voldemort and the fact that he _still_ hadn’t responded.   
And he had sworn to Neville and Luna that he wouldn’t go ‘home’ unless he was sure that both he and his friends were completely safe from the Dark Lord.  
  
He sighed again as he rose from his chair and stretched, glad to get at least some of the stress kinks out of his body.  
“Still no reply?” a soft female voice asked and he quickly whipped around only to come face to face with Luna.  
“Oh, hi Luna,” he said and he smiled softly at her until her words registered, after which he added sombrely “no, still no reply.”

“The Rohrhounds might have stolen your mail,” Luna said seriously, “in that case you’ll find your letter underneath your pillow.”  
“Thanks Luna,” Harry said indulgently, “I’ll check underneath my pillow once I’ve returned to the dorm room.”

“Good,” Luna said happily, “I noticed Ginny coming this way, by the by. She was mumbling something about your promise to help her with DADA.”  
“I never promised that!” Harry growled annoyed, “And I _told_ her, five times already, that I didn’t have time to help her!”  
“I know that,” Luna said airily, “I think the Airpuffs have confounded her into believing that you promised to help her. Anyway: I decided to warn you that she was looking for you.”

“Thanks Luna,” Harry said and he smiled at her, “do you want to come with me to the Gryffindor common room? We could play Exploding Snap with Neville.”  
“Yes, that would be lovely,” Luna said and she smiled brightly at him.  
  
**oOo**  
  
Harry growled in annoyance as he turned, again. He had been tossing and turning for hours but he just couldn’t sleep thanks to those blasted nerves.  
  
He, Neville and Luna had been playing Exploding Snap until ten minutes before curfew as Luna had to get back to the Ravenclaw common Room. Before she had left she had reminded him of the Rohrhounds but he hadn’t been able to remember what they were or what they did.  
  
He grabbed for his wand, which he found after the third attempt, and quickly cast a _Tempus_ , only to groan as he noticed that it was only a couple of minutes part two o’clock in the morning.  
He flopped back down onto his bed with a sigh after which he pulled the covers over his head. Only for them to come undone at the feet of the bed.  
After a couple of minutes, in which his feet grew cold, he growled again, stood and redid the covers and laid back down.  
  
He laid still for another couple of minutes after which he cast another _Tempus_ , only to notice that only ten minutes had ticked by.  
He sighed in annoyance, sat up and grabbed a book from his night table. He quickly grabbed his pillow and he was about to place it against his headboard when he noticed something _laying_ underneath his pillow.

He placed the book back down and picked the thing underneath his pillow up, only to notice that it was a letter, written in the same neat script as the latter he had received from his _grandfather_.  
He groaned as he remembered Luna’s words and he quickly opened the letter.  
  
_‘To my heir,_  
I will promise to not hurt, kill, maim or torture you, nor will I let anyone else hurt, kill, maim or torture you while you are my heir. The rule about you hurting, torturing, killing or maiming me or my Death Eaters still stands, however.

_I will not swear an oath in which I swear that I will not hurt your friends. However, you are permitted to send me a list in which the persons you want to keep unharmed are mentioned. Your behaviour, however, will be the one thing that will keep them unharmed._

_I am aware of the fact that you might want to send gifts to your friends. I suggest that you make sure that you’ve bought their gifts before the holidays, as you are not permitted to leave the mansion once you have arrived until it is time for the next semester.  
Lord Voldemort’_  
  
Harry sighed softly once he had finished reading the letter and he quickly grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill and started on his list, all the while wondering what Voldemort meant with ‘his behaviour’.  
  
**oOo**  
  
“Still no letter?” Neville asked softly the next morning.  
“Actually, I found it underneath my pillow early in the morning,” Harry said wryly.  
Neville shot him a weird look before he asked: “And?”  
“He promised not to hurt me as long as I’m his heir,” Harry said, “and I’m _allowed_ to send him a list with the people I don’t want hurt. It depends on my behaviour if they get hurt though…”

“It depends on your behaviour?” Neville asked curious, “what does _that_ mean?”  
“No clue,” Harry said shrugging, “I’m going to send him the letter with the list and that question after DADA. I still need to add a couple of people… What is your grandmother’s name?”  
“Augusta, Augusta Longbottom,” Neville said confused, “why?”  
“He’ll probably go after her in an effort to hurt me,” Harry said shrugging, “have you seen Luna?”  
“Actually, there she comes,” Neville said and he shot the girl a quick smile.  
  
“Luna! Just the girl I needed,” Harry exclaimed as soon as the girl sat down next to him, “what is your father’s name?”  
“Xenophilius,” Luna answered dreamily, “but you don’t have to write him down. He can protect himself.”  
“I don’t doubt that,” Harry muttered, “but I just don’t trust Voldemort. So I’m still going to write him down. How do you spell that?”

Both boys noted that her smile and eyes were watery and thankful but neither of them mentioned it.  
  
**oOo**  
  
“I think Umbridge is starting to like you,” Neville told him amused as they walked towards the owlery.  
“I know, it’s scary!” Harry said and he shivered in disgust, “at least she has stopped dropping hints about the Daily Prophet, my sanity and Voldemort to get me to _react_.”  
Neville shuddered slightly as the name was mentioned but nodded in agreement.  
  
“Do you think that she will still be here by the end of the year?” Neville asked after a couple of seconds.  
“Not if I can help it,” Harry said scoffing, “she is terrible teacher and we learn nothing from her!”  
Neville sniggered lightly and said at Harry’s questioning look: “you sounded like Hermione just now.”  
Harry shook his head fondly and together they entered the owlery.  
  
Harry whistled softly and Hedwig hooted softly from her spot before she came flying down.  
“I rather not use you, girl,” he told her softly, “but as you are the most awesome owl here and I don’t trust Umbridge to not check my mail…”  
Neville shot him an uneasy look but both knew that he was right.  
“Make sure that you drop the letter down as fast as you can and leave immediately after that,” Harry said sternly but it was clear that he was worried, “can you do that?”

Hedwig hooted offended and she picked at his fingers sharply.  
Harry laughed softly and softly petted her before he handed her the letter, which she took in her beak.  
“Good luck girl,” he murmured, “and please come back safely.”  
Hedwig gave a muffled hoot, pushed her head against his chest in an attempt to assure him and took off.  
  
“I worry for her,” Harry muttered softly as he watched her disappear.  
“I can imagine,” Neville said softly, “she’ll survive. She is the smartest owl I’ve ever seen, after all.”

“Thanks Nev,” Harry said and he shot him a quick smile.  
“For what?” Neville asked confused.  
“For trying to cheer me up,” Harry said, “for being my friend.”  
Neville’s face softened, “your welcome. So who did you put on your list?”  
  
**oOoOoOo  
**  
Voldemort carefully turned the ring around to check if all of the enchantments wanted were there before he carefully slipped it on to see if it worked correctly.  
he smiled in satisfaction as it worked the way he wanted it to work and he slipped it back of his finger before he put it back in its case.  
It was a week before the Christmas holiday would start and he was making sure that everything was the way he wanted it. After all, everything had to be ready _before_ his heir arrived.  
  
A soft hissing sound and loud squeaking came from the fireplace and he looked up, only to see  Nagini chasing Wormtail.  
**_“:Leave him alone, Nagini,”_** he hissed softly, ****_“:I might have… need of him.:”_

Nagini hissed in irritation but did as she was told and the rat quickly ran away. She looked after him in clear disappointment before she made her way towards him and slithered up the back of his chair to rest her head on his shoulder. His hand came up and he started to pet her softly.

**_“:When will he arrive?:”_** she asked curious and Voldemort moved his head to look her in the eye.  
**_“:Soon,:”_** he answered.  
**_“:Can I eat him?:”_** she asked hopefully.  
**_“:No,:”_** Voldemort said sharply, **_“:You don’t eat your hatchlings, now do you?:”_**  
**_“:Of course not,:”_** she answered affronted, **_“:but he’s not a hatchling. He is the hatchling of your hatchling. That’s different.:”_**

Voldemort felt his eyelids  droop and he stared at her with lidded eyes.  
**_“:He will be my hatchling,:”_** he finally said softly, **_“:He is my last chance at having one.:”_**  
Nagini looked at him weirdly, or as weirdly as a snake could look, but she didn’t react as he continued petting her.  
  
**oOo**  
  
A sharp ticking sounded and he waved his wand distractedly to let the owl in.  
Before he could comprehend what was happening the owl dived down, dropped the letter and left, all in the span of a couple of seconds.  
He blinked after the owl, not that he was sure that it had been an owl as the only thing he had seen of it had been an incredibly fast, white blur, before he turned towards the letter.  
  
He waved his wand in order to check the letter for any offensive magic, you couldn’t be too careful as a Dark Lord after all, before he picked it up and opened it, only to see two pieces of parchment. He scowled as he noticed the atrocious handwriting.  
  
_‘Voldemort,  
I’ve a name, use it.  
I’ve written down that I’ll go with you, no not in that exact wording but I’m not going to call anywhere you live home.  
I’ve added the list with people I want safe with this letter. What do you mean with ‘my behaviour’?  
Harry Potter’_  
  
His scowl deepened as he read the incredibly rude letter but he was livid as soon as he had finished reading it.  
He felt his magic react to his anger and he quickly took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm down.  
  
He picked up the list and quickly read through it to see what kind of people the boy wanted to protect.  
  
_‘Neville Longbottom,_  
Augusta Longbottom,  
Luna Lovegood,  
Xenophilius Lovegood,  
Sirius Black,  
Remus Lupin,  
Molly Weasley,  
Arthur Weasley,  
Ron Weasley,  
Ginny Weasley,  
Fred Weasley,  
George Weasley,  
Percy Weasley,  
Charlie Weasley,  
William Weasley,  
Hermione Granger,  
Hedwig.’  
  
He couldn’t help but sneer as he noticed the large amount of bloodtraitors before he smiled cruelly.  
“He wants to know what I mean with behaviour?” he whispered in dark amusement, “he’s about to find out!”  
And his laugh, dark, high and cold, rang out through the otherwise empty room.


	13. Chapter 12

**Family ties  
  
Chapter 12  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry watched sadly as the landscape sped by. He was the only one in the compartment, as Neville, Luna, Hermione and the Weasleys had opted to stay at Hogwarts, and the heavy silence oppressed him.

He had tried to read a book when the train had taken of but the only thing he could concentrate on was the fact that he was going to live with the monster that had killed his parents and who was the indirect reason why he had been forced to live with the Dursleys for the last fourteen years.  
  
His thoughts drifted towards the holidays themselves. What would it be like? Would Voldemort lock him away somewhere in the dungeons or would he get an actual room? And what did Voldemort expect of him?  
  
He sighed softly as he closed his eyes in an attempt to clear his mind and to chase the thoughts of Voldemort, and his stay with him, away.  
He decided that, as he had had little sleep the last couple of days, he might as well try to get some rest, before he had to meet up with his _grandfather_.  
  
Finally, after almost an half hour, he dozed off. His mind, and dreams, filled to the brim with shattered thoughts and images he couldn’t remember after he had woken up a couple of hours later.  
  
**oOo  
**  
He dragged his trunk with him and looked around nervously and unsure, as he had no clue for whom he should be looking.  
He doubted that the Dark Lord would arrive here looking all snake-like but he really no idea _what_ he would look like.   
In the end he placed his trunk on the ground next to a bench and sat down on the bench itself.  
  
He closed his eyes and decided to wait until Voldemort would come for him.  
  
**oOoOoOo  
**  
He sneered as he walked briskly through the portal that protected Platform 9 ¾ from the prying eyes of the Muggles.  
He knew that the train had arrived almost an hour and a half ago, and he had tried to get there on time, but the rat and some of his more… abstemious followers had required  his attention in such a way that he _had_ to deal with them first.  
Luckily for his heir, he had used those followers as a means to keep his temper in check.  
  
He looked around as soon as he reached the actual platform, which was fortunately almost empty by now, and he immediately spotted the boy half laying, half sitting on one of the benches, his eyes closed and his trunk and the cage of his owl next to him on the ground.  
He made his way towards his heir and growled lowly as he noticed that the boy was _asleep_.  
With a flick of his wand the boy flew forwards, off the bench and onto the floor, though he made sure not to harm him… badly.   
  
He immediately woke up and looked up to glower at him from his spot on the floor.  
“What was that for?” he shouted as he rubbed his now sore hand, which he had used to catch himself on the last moment, clearly angry and irritated and some of the still remaining people turned to look at them.  
Voldemort glared at the people, who turned back to their own conversations, before he looked down upon his heir flatly, “I could have just apparated with you while you were asleep. I, however, prefer my mansion to be clean.”  
  
The boy continued to glare at him as he lifted himself to his feet.  
“Why do you look like _that_ anyway?” He suddenly asked rudely, “and I don’t mean the why but the how.”  
Voldemort looked down at his body as he quickly shoved the urge to roll his eyes away. He had, once again, taken the form of how he would have looked at fifty had he had his own, normal human body.  
“An improved version of _Polyjuice potion_. It lasts a couple of hours,” he answered blandly, “Now come on.”  
  
The boy grabbed his trunk and the owl cage before he turned to stare expectedly at him.  
“ _Reducio_ ,” he cast and he sneered as he saw the boy jump in surprise as both the trunk and the cage shrunk. The boy quickly grabbed them and put them in his pocket and, as soon as he had done that, he grabbed his shoulder tightly, bordering on painfully, and apparated them away.  
  
**oOo**  
  
They landed in the entrance room of his house, Neidr Manor located in Wales, and Voldemort, who had landed gracefully on his feet, sneered as he noticed that the boy had fallen on the floor and was retching.

He waited until the boy had at least stopped retching before he cleared his throat.  
“Before I’ll show you to you room,” he started once he was sure that the boy’s attention was on him, “there are a couple of rules you’ll have to obey. Disobeying those rules counts as negative behaviour.”

He noticed that the boy had opened his mouth, probably to ask about the behaviour thing,  but he continued as if he hadn’t seen it, “While in public, you’ll either address me as ‘sir’ or ‘grandfather’. While in private it’s just ‘sir’ and during a Death Eater meeting, which you’ll have to attend under a disguise, it’ll be ‘My Lord’. Do I make myself clear.”  
The boy grumbled softly but said at his look, “yeah.”

“And that response brings me to my second point,” Voldemort said with distaste, “Speak properly when spoken to, and only _when_ spoken to. I want you to use proper language. Do you understand that?”  
“Yes… _sir_ ,” the boy spat and Voldemort shot him a disapproving look before he continued.  
  
“Talking about language: the only language you’ll be speaking in this house will be Parseltongue,” he said, “I’m aware that you can speak the snake language – “  
“I won’t speak that horrid language,” the boy snarled angrily, interrupting him.  
“You don’t have a choice,” he told him, his voice a dangerous hiss, “either you speak it voluntarily or I’ll _force_ you to speak it.”

“You can’t do that!” the boy said outraged.  
Voldemort smiled coldly at him, “but I can. So it’s your choice: voluntarily or forced. Chose!”  
“I won’t speak it,” the boy said stubbornly before he added smugly, “and you can’t force me as you can’t harm me!”  
“Who said anything about harm,” Voldemort said suddenly amused, “ _Pertrificus Totalus_!”  
The boy’s body immediately turned stiff and he quickly caught him before he managed to fall on the ground.

He carefully placed him down on the floor before he said almost pleasantly: “You see, I can still curse you. I just can’t hurt you. It’s all a matter of wording and intention as magic isn’t exactly sentient.”  
The boy glared at him, the only movement he could make.  
  
“Now, I could temporarily block the knowledge of how to speak English, or any other language you might know, from your mind,” Voldemort said as he knelt down gracefully next to his heir, “but that would turn out to be rather unfortunate as you wouldn’t know how to speak English during the meetings. So I came up with another option.”

He took the small box out of his pocket and took the ring from it. He turned it in the light and he made sure that his heir could see the crest. It was the Slytherin heir ring, a small, silver signet ring with the Slytherin coat of arms. He himself wore the Slytherin Head of House ring. It was slightly larger and made out of white gold.

“I charmed this ring myself,” he continued, visibly pleased, “it carries some charms which will temporarily block your ability to speak the English language. You will still _know_ how to speak it and you’ll be able to understand it but you just can’t _speak_ it, or any other language for that matter, anymore. Besides that, it carries a couple of spell which will inform me of your health and your location and it has some shield charms.”  
He carefully slid it on the boy’s right ring finger before he stood and dusted himself of.  
  
“So you see,” he said amused as he looked down on the prone form of his heir, “not only did I not harm you, I also protected you against potential harm. Thus keeping my promise.”  
The boy’s glare just intensified.  
“ _Finite Incantatem_ ,” he cast and the boy immediately jumped up and tried to get the ring off.

 ** _“:What did you do to it?:”_** the boy hissed angrily, **_“:Why can’t I get it off?:”_**  
“Because I charmed it so only _I_ can take it off,” Voldemort told him expressionless, “now, I’ll show you to your rooms, after which you’ll have some time to clean yourself. I’ll inform you about the rest of the rules when you need to know them.”  
The boy bared his teeth, in a way that was disturbingly similar to a snake, at him in anger but he followed him sulkily when he started to walk.  
  
Together they climbed the staircase towards the boy’s room. He made sure to keep an eye on the boy, as the mansion was rather big and the many corridors appeared to be similar.  
  
After a couple of minutes they entered the corridor designated for the Slytherin family.  
“The first door leads towards my, _our_ , library,” Voldemort said softly, “it contains books on multiple subjects, including rare books on obscure subjects. Most of them are either in English or Parseltongue but there are books in other languages. You’ll have to come to me if you want to read them. All of the books contain charms and spells to make them indestructible, which brings me to another rule: you’ll not try to destroy anything in this house. Do you understand?”  
**_“:Yes sir,:”_** the boy said sulkily.

“Good,” he said and they continued, “this door leads to the sunroom. You’ll be able to find most of the snakes there. They won’t harm you as you are a speaker and, in return, I expect you to not harm them.”  
  
They finally stopped at the last two doors and Voldemort mentioned towards the door on his left.  
“This door leads to your chambers. You’ve a small bathroom, a small study and a bedroom,” and he turned towards him, “My chambers are opposite of yours so if you need me, just knock.”  
He turned back towards the boy’s room and opened the door before he swept inside. His heir followed, only to stop and gape at the cheer size of the room, the study, which they had entered.

 ** _“:I thought you said it was small?:”_** he finally asked once he had gathered his bearing.  
“It is small,” Voldemort said, his eyebrow raised, “compared to my rooms or the library’s study. But I could always look for a cupboard instead, if you want me to.”  
The boy turned and glared at him.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” he said amused, “now, dinner will be served in half an hour at six o’clock. There will be other _guests_ so I expect you to dress appropriately. I’ll come back in twenty minutes. Normally, I would advise you to call the house elves but as they don’t understand Parseltongue I would recommend either coming to me or searching for a snake to ask for my location. Do you have questions?”  
  
**_“:The behaviour thing,:”_** the boy asked grudgingly, **_“:what did you mean with that?:”_**  
“Ah yes, I almost forgot,” Voldemort said pleasantly, “remember the list you wrote? Every time you disobey my orders or misbehave someone will be eliminated from that list, meaning they are no longer protected.”  
The boy sucked in a sharp breath in shock.

“So you see, you behaviour keeps your friends safe,” he told him pleased, his eyes glowing cruelly, “and I don’t even have to harm you! Now, as you’ve already disobeyed some of my rules.”  
He trailed off to take a look at his heir, who had paled and was shaking badly. His gaze didn’t quite meet his.  
  
“But, as you didn’t know that, I’ll be merciful and instead torture some other poor soul,” he said softly and he walked towards his heir and took his chin in his hand to make him look him into his eyes to gauge his reaction, which had turned into relieve.   
He knew that his eyes had already changed back to their normal red colour, a side product of splitting his soul, as they had been hidden by a complicated glamour and not the _Polyjuice potion._  
  
“How about those muggles you call family, hm?” he asked softly, “would you be willing to trade the lives of those three muggles for one of the persons on the list? It’s easy, you either give me the location of those muggles, and I’ll use them as punishment, or I’ll remove someone of your list.”  
The boy’s eyes grew large and wild and the relieve drained away as his words registered. He started to shake as he tried to break himself away from his grip.

“You don’t have to give me the answer to that question tonight,” he continued, “but I expect that answer soon. Do you understand?”  
The boy didn’t react, clearly too shocked and too horrified.  
**_“:Do you understand?:”_** he repeated harshly and he squeezed the chin in his hand. The boy’s eyes shot back towards his and he nodded.  
“I’ll consider that an answer, but only this one time,” he said softly and he released the boy’s chin. The boy stumbled backwards, away from him.  
  
“I’ll come to get you for dinner in twenty minutes,” Voldemort said once again emotionless and he turned swiftly and left the room, leaving his heir behind, shaking, shocked and horrified.


	14. Chapter 13

**Family ties  
  
Chapter 13  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
He nodded politely at the things his conversation partner, one Lucius Malfoy, was saying.  
The three of them – meaning he himself, his sort-of friend Lucius Malfoy and his godson Draco Malfoy – had been invited by their Lord to join him and his new found heir - someone about whom Dumbledore needed to know the identity of - for dinner. Though, invited might not be the correct term as they had no choice but to accept.

Not that he considered the crazed, snakelike man his lord.  
From the three of them only Lucius seemed to have a clue - as small as it may seem to be - as to whom this heir could be but he wouldn’t tell them.   
  
A slight lull fell into the conversation and he took another sip of his wine as they politely waited in the antechamber for their Lord and his heir to arrive.  
“Uncle Severus, could you inform me about the progress Madame Umbridge has made in her attempt to clean the school of the inferior teachers?” Draco asked politely in an attempt to keep the conversation flowing and he turned his attention towards him.

“She seems to have found some resistance in the form of the other teachers, though mostly Dumbledore’s _followers_ , and students from the Houses of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,” he told him smoothly, “though the last two Houses seem to be _split_ in their reactions towards the woman.”

“And Gryffindor?” Draco asked eagerly, too eagerly, which caused his father to give him a sharp reprimand.  
Severus smiled fondly behind his glass before he quickly wiped his smile off and said: “They follow the example of their hero, Harry Potter, and his sidekicks.”  
Both Malfoys sneered at the mention of the boy’s name and he couldn’t help but agree with them.

“Do you know what happened between Granger, Weasley and Potter?” Draco asked curiously.  
“No, unfortunately I’m not privy to that information,” he drawled, his tone slightly sarcastically.  
  
Draco opened his mouth to continue with the conversation but the opening of the door made him close his mouth and the three of them turned towards their host, who still looked as snake-like as ever, only to gape as they noticed who was trailing behind him.

Because, a little behind and to the right of the Dark Lord, stood an unharmed and relatively healthy looking Harry Potter. He was dressed in an emerald green, expensive looking robe, formal black pants and a dark silver coloured dress shirt. His hair was still as messy as ever and his glasses were still the same but he noticed a silver signet ring - though he couldn’t see the crest - on the boy’s right ring finger. The angry scowl the boy shot towards the floor and the fact that he seemed uncomfortable in the clothes he was wearing - though it could be the fact that he was wearing _Slytherin_ colours and uncomfortable and irritated with the company he was in – gave away that he did not want to be present for the dinner.

It was also very clear that he didn’t _want_ to be there at all but didn’t have a say in the matter.  
He wondered why the boy didn’t glare towards the Dark Lord or towards them, but his shocked mind couldn’t come up with an explanation.  
  
A soft hissing sound caused them to snap back to the reality and they quickly closed their mouth, composed themselves and bowed politely towards the Dark Lord and the boy, who seemed to be the one who made the strange hissing sounds. It looked like he was laughing at them, but he couldn’t be too sure as it didn’t _sound_ human.  
A sharp hissing from the Dark Lord made the boy stop hissing, _sniggering_ , and he returned to scowling at the floor.  
  
“My Lord, might I inquire as to why Harry Potter is here?” Severus asked blandly.  
“I do believe that I asked you to come dine with my _heir_ and me, didn’t I,” was the cold response the Dark Lord gave before he turned around and started to lead the way towards the dining room. The Potter boy looked hesitant as to what to do but a sharp hiss made him quickly catch up with the Dark Lord and they started to follow the two of them.  
  
Severus couldn’t understand _how_ the boy became the heir to the Dark Lord or _why_ he was here, alive and unharmed. And why was he listening to the Dark Lord’s orders anyway? The man - which was something that was debatable in itself - had killed his _parents_ , for Merlin’s sake, he should oppose him, kill him! Not join him.  
  
**oOo**  
  
“Lucius, Draco, come with me,” the Dark Lord ordered after everyone had eaten their fill and he gracefully rose from his seat at the head of the table. Lucius - who had been sulking, not that it was _that_ visible, ever since the Dark Lord had placed the Potter boy at his right hand - and Draco nodded and both rose from their chairs.

“Severus, if you would be so kind to keep my heir company in the Sun Room on the second floor,” the Dark Lord said, “I’ve ordered the house elves to bring you tea.”  
He nodded, fully aware that it wasn’t a request.  
  
The Dark Lord turned towards the boy and hissed something softly. The boy scowled at him before he answered in the same language and the man hissed something back sharply. The boy nodded slightly before he hissed softly. Severus had known that the boy was a parselmouth - he had been there when the attention seeking brat had demonstrated it in front if the entire school after all - but he couldn’t help the shudder that ran across his spine every time _Lily’s_ child used the language her _murderer_ spoke so often.  


The Dark Lord made a sharp motion with his hand - one that Severus recognized as a ‘come with me _now’_ \- and left the dinner room closely followed by both Malfoys, leaving him with the boy whom had decided that glaring at him when the Dark Lord wasn’t around was apparently safe.  
  
He stood and said sharply, “well come on then.”  
The boy’s glare became darker but the boy stood and followed him when he left the dinner room.  
  
**oOo  
**  
During the walk towards the Sun Room he considered the boy’s presence in the Dark Lord’s manor.  
He didn’t seem to like it from what he could see, but the boy’s discomfort and irritation could also stem from the fact that he had to have dinner with people he _disliked_. Or from the fact that the clothes seemed to be new and quite expensive, which he normally didn’t wear. Or from something else _entirely_.  
  
But no, that couldn’t be it. Unless the boy had been wearing a mask the last four years - and he was aware that that couldn’t be the truth as he had read the boy’s mind a couple of times. A day - he really didn’t want to be here. So why was he here? And why was he the Dark Lord’s heir?  
He knew that he could just ask the boy, but he wasn’t sure if the boy would answer truthfully and he couldn’t read his mind, not with the Dark Lord close by.  
  
Urgh, why did _he_ have to deal with situations like this! Bloody Potter.  
  
**oOo**  
  
He quickly cast silencing wards and _Muffliato’s_ around the two of them before he turned towards the boy, who had sat down on one of the many couches in the Sun Room.

The Sun Room was a large and bright room filled with couches, low tables and burning fires in fireplaces. There were always at least two serpents present - and he couldn’t help but wonder were the rest of the serpents and snakes rested and sunbathed - and he made sure that the two serpents were outside the wards before he turned towards the boy.  
  
“You impertinent brat,” he hissed angrily, “what do you think you are doing?”  
The boy just stared at him flatly and virulently but he got no other response than another dark glare. He wondered briefly if the boy had finally managed to get a grip on his temper, but he dismissed that thought immediately in favour of his irritation and growing sense of dread.

“Do you have any idea what the Dark Lord is capable of?” he continued irritated, his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared wide, “Do you know how concerned the Order is going to be and how betrayed the others are going to feel when they know where you are?”  
  
The boy still didn’t react but he noticed that the boy’s eyes were wide and fearful and he wouldn’t quite meet his gaze like he had before. And he seemed to be _guilty_ and _desperate_. Though, he also noticed that the anger and discomfort was still there.  
“So I repeat: What are you doing here?” he sneered. The boy’s mouth thinned in irritation but he kept quiet.  
  
“Let me guess, to you this is just all a game,” Severus continued angry at the fact that the boy wouldn’t respond, “Nothing more than a phase. You are _just_ like your father.”

The boy’s head snapped up and he bared his teeth at him but he still kept silent, unnaturally so.  
He noticed that the serpents’ head snapped up and their tongues started to flick out faster. They were agitated.  
  
His eyes widened in realisation and a smirk made his way on his face, “What’s the matter? Too afraid to defend your own father? How very _Gryffindor_. Your father was the same. Always _so_ brave when he was in public, not so much when it was just him against two or more persons.”  
The boy hissed dangerously at him but he ignored him and continued, “Yes, always running away and hiding behind others - ”  
  
The boy jumped up and started to scream at him - in Parseltongue - as one of the serpents lunged at him. He quickly sidestepped it and the serpent lunged at him again. He kept sidestepping it and the serpent kept lunging at him for a couple of minutes until a sharp hissed command made it stop.  
  
Severus turned towards the one who had commanded it only to freeze as he noticed the Dark Lord standing in the doorway with Lucius and Draco standing behind him. The three of them entered the room and Voldemort sat down next to the still raging boy.  
  
“May I inquire why one of the snakes came to my study to inform me that you were assaulting my heir?” he asked silkily, _dangerously_.  
“We were just talking, My Lord,” Severus answered softly and he stood and gave a sharp bow as he quickly squeezed down his fear, “we just _had_ a disagreement about something.”  
“A one sided disagreement?” the Dark Lord asked mockingly and he raised a hairless eyebrow.  
“No, My Lord,” he said smoothly.  
  
“Do you agree with this, child?” the Dark Lord asked the still fuming Potter boy and the boy’s gaze snapped towards Voldemort and he hissed something sharply. It was clear that the boy was still angry with him.  
“My heir seems to disagree and I’m inclined to believe him,” the Dark Lord said softly, “do you want to know why?”

Severus opened his mouth to react but Voldemort ignored him and continued: “he is currently incapable of speaking English. He can only use Parseltongue. So how could the two of you have a disagreement when only one person can express himself in English?”  
  
Severus opened his mouth to defend himself but the Dark Lord was faster.  
“Let’s continue this somewhere else, shall we?” he told them coldly, “Lucius, Draco, remember my orders. Leave!”  
The two bowed before they quickly left the room. Voldemort stood and the Potter boy quickly scrambled to his feet.

“Come along,” the Dark Lord ordered and he turned around and left the Sun Room, followed closely by the boy. Severus trailed slowly after them and he couldn’t help the feeling of panic and helplessness which coursed through him.  
  
He somehow knew that he wouldn’t survive the encounter.


	15. Chapter 14

**Family ties  
  
Chapter 14  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Voldemort walked briskly towards his meeting room, closely followed by his heir and the traitorous spy.   
His mind kept wondering about the information Snape could have that he didn’t know about - like the complete list of Order members and the location of their headquarters - and he briefly wondered if his heir had the same information. He entertained the thought of asking his heir about it when he was in the same room as Snape, as the traitor couldn’t understand the answers the boy would give, but he dismissed that idea almost immediately as he had already planned to talk to his heir as soon as the boy had settled in.  
  
He cast a quick spell as soon as they had entered the room which ensured that no one could leave the room – neither by foot nor by magical means until he permitted them to leave – after which he sat down in his throne-like chair.

He noticed how Snape kneeled down immediately with his face towards the floor while his heir stood by the closed door, awkwardly shifting from leg to leg. Mentally he grimaced but he decided that, as it was the first night and the boy didn’t know better, he would ignore it. But only this once.  
  
“Severus, do you know why you are here?” Voldemort asked and he focused entire on the greasy, black haired man on the floor.  
Snape looked up, without meeting his gaze, and said softly, “I do not know, My Lord.”  
Voldemort hummed softly before he said, “A pity.”  
“My Lord?” he asked confused and Voldemort let every last bit of emotion drain away from his face until only an emotionless mask remained.  
  
“I’ve found out rather recently that there is a spy in my inner circle,” he said coldly, “a spy for Dumbledore and I was wondering, as you are a member of Dumbledore’s Order, if you knew something about that?”  
“No My Lord,” Snape said almost emotionless, though he noticed that the man’s voice was slightly filled with something. Apprehension, maybe?  
  
“Is  that so,” he murmured softly, but he knew that both his heir and the traitor could hear him, “It is fortunate that I already _know_ who the spy is, do you not agree?”  
Snape nodded slowly but Voldemort ignored him and continued, “in fact I have evidence that points out who the spy is. Do you want to know who the spy is, Severus?”  
“My Lord?” the dour man asked and the confusion was clear in his voice.

“Tell me Severus,” Voldemort breathed seemingly out of nowhere and he leaned towards Snape, his full attention focused on the man, “are you loyal to me or are you loyal to Dumbledore?”  
“You, My Lord,” the man said immediately.  
“Ah, but my evidence says otherwise,” Voldemort said, once again cold, “In fact, all my evidence points towards the fact that _you_ are the spy.”

“What evidence, My Lord?” the man asked impassive and Voldemort had to admire the man’s courage. He wondered, not for the first time, if the sorting hat had considered Gryffindor for Snape.  
“Some memories of caught Order members and from someone _else_ ,” Voldemort said, purposefully vague, and he smiled coldly, “they are terrible bad at hiding their thoughts, you know.”  
“Then the evidence is lying, My Lord,” Snape said, “for I’m no one’s spy except for yours.”  
  
“Is that so,” Voldemort said softly, “In that case, what is the address of the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix?”  
“I don’t know, My Lord,” Snape said, “they don’t trust me with information like that.”  
“You lie,” Voldemort said, his voice hard, “for I’ve seen you in their headquarters in the memories of the Order members and - while I know that it is under the Fidelius Charm - the address is still recorded in one’s memory. And you, as an Occlumens, should have access to that information.”  
  
He noticed that Snape’s eyes had started to flit from the door towards his heir and back to him, which was the only indication that the man was nervous.  
Voldemort felt his smile turn into a smirk and he said, “There is no way out.”  
The man’s eyes snapped back to him and he continued, “You have two choices. Either you give me the information you’ve been holding back and I might consider letting you live or you keep silent, in which case I would enjoy torturing the information out of you.”  
  
The man didn’t say anything, in fact he seemed to be squishing his self-preservation instincts down, and Voldemort felt his smirk turn dark.  
“I’m going to enjoy this,” he said and he pointed his wand at the man, “now, what is the address of the headquarter of the  Order of the Phoenix?”  
“I don’t know, My Lord,” Snape said bravely at which Voldemort snarled, “ _Crucio_!”  
The man fell down and started to spasm on the floor in pain but he didn’t scream of shout out in pain.  
  
He turned his attention towards his heir, while cursing the traitor, to see what he thought about him torturing his teacher but the boy’s face, while showing discomfort, distaste, repulsion, fear and another large range of emotion that all showed how uncomfortable he was and how much he hated the torture – and he would have to rectify that - was turned away from both of them and he seemed to be studying the stones of the wall closest to the door in an attempt to ignore it all and, possibly, to keep his friends save. Voldemort, after seeing that his heir was alright – relatively speaking - turned his attention back on the now writhing man.  
  
He cancelled the spell and asked, “Are you going to answer my question now?”  
Snape panted but he didn’t react.  
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” Voldemort said casually, “let’s try this than, _Legilimency_!”  
He encountered a smooth, steel barrier and he gathered all his powers and used it to batter against it. A soft pained hiss sounded from the boy’s spot as a small crack appeared in the mental shield but Voldemort ignored it.   
He gathered his powers once more and slammed them once again against the mental barrier before he pulled back from the man’s mind, satisfied as he had noticed that there was a much larger crack in the steel barrier.  
  
Another pained hiss sounded and he shot a quick look at his heir only to notice that he looked slightly pained and pale, but not overly so, and he wondered _why_ the boy seemed to be affected by him torturing Snape. But he quickly dismissed it in favour of the information the spy - who was panting heavily in pain - had, as the boy seemed to be alright.  
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Voldemort asked and he smirked cruelly, “I promise that if you answer my questions now I’ll consider giving you a merciful death.”

The traitor seemed to consider his words but after a couple of seconds - and after he shot one look at his heir - he seemed to gather his courage after which he shook his head.  
  
“Hm, pity,” Voldemort muttered and he quickly summoned the man’s wand, potion knifes and other items and trinkets before he smirked cruelly and said, “well, more fun for me I guess. _Expello Viscus_.”  
Snape’s stomach split until a three inch long gash was visible and blood and gore dripped out of it.  
The boy gave another, louder pained hiss and Voldemort looked up from the man towards his heir. The boy’s face was contorted with discomfort and he was rubbing his scar.  
Voldemort cocked his head and he quickly cancelled the curse.  
  
“Come here,” he said and he motioned for the boy to come closer. The boy obeyed and, as soon as his heir was standing in front of him, he gently pulled the boy’s hands away from his scar and studied it.  
It was slightly red and it felt hot to the touch but that was all that seemed to be wrong with it.  
“Does it hurt?” he finally asked after a couple of minutes.  
**_“:Not really, sir,:”_** the boy hissed softly but he could see that the boy was lying and he made a mental note to inform his heir about the consequences of lying to him as soon as it was just the two of them.  
  
Voldemort frowned as he tried to come up with an explanation as to _why_ the scar would hurt but he came up empty.  
“Go to your room,” he finally said softly, hoping that the distance would negate whatever was happening. After all, what use was an heir whose scar hurt as soon as he tortured someone?   
“Can you find the way by yourself?”  
The boy shrugged but shook his head after a sharp, piercing look.   
  
Voldemort gently woke the snake wrapped around his forearm – a small, highly venomous, plain brown little thing - up before he ordered it softly to guide his heir back to his room.  
**_“:I want you to start on one of the books I have provided for you. You will find them in your study,:”_** he ordered him sharply, “I’ll check up on you once I’m done here.”

The boy nodded after which he quickly followed the snake out of the room.  
  
**oOo**  
  
The traitor lay in front of him in a large puddle of his own blood, flesh, gore and other body parts and Voldemort smirked madly as Snape screamed hoarsely - at least it seemed that way as his voice had stopped working an hour ago -  and twitched in pain, thanks to the Cruciatus Curse.

He had been questioning – _torturing_ \- the traitor for almost two hours on end and the man was about ready to die. The only new information he had gained was a list of Order members - at least the ones Snape knew about - and some unimportant missions to get some Dark Creatures, which were already on his side of the war, on Dumbledore’s side.  
  
He cancelled the curse and was about to cast the killing curse when an agitated snake came slithering into the room. The same snake he had asked to guide his heir to his room.  
**_“:Master, your hatchling - :”_** it hissed as it kept slithering around in the snake version of pacing.  
**_“:What’s with my heir?:”_** Voldemort interrupted and he turned his full attention on the small snake, the traitor forgotten in favour of his heir’s wellbeing.  
**_“:He started to bleed, he was hurt and he collapsed before I came here,:”_** the snake hissed, **_“:Nagini sent me to you the moment he stopped moving.:”_**

**_“:How long ago?:”_** Voldemort asked and he quickly stood and scooped the snake up before he quickly left the room, **_“:And how bad is it?:”_**  
**_“:I don’t know, time has no meaning to me,:”_** the snake hissed softly and Voldemort quickened his pace until he was almost running, **_“:He was screaming and moving around like a poisoned prey.:”_**  
  
The mansion was huge and he knew that it was a ten minute walk from the meeting room, which was a large room in the very front of the mansion, to their chambers, which were at the very end of the mansion. The snake was rather small and it wasn’t the fastest specie there was, he estimated that it would have taken about thirty minutes before it had reached him. He had been torturing the traitor for about two hours, meaning his heir had been in pain for about one hour and a half and had lost consciousness about half an hour ago.  
  
**oOo  
**  
He carefully opened the door and gracefully slipped in. The snakes, who seemed to be huddled together, looked up and bared their fangs at him but relaxed as soon as they noticed who he was.  
****_“:Where is he?:”_ he asked softly and the majority of the snakes slithered away from the heap of snakes until he could see the pale boy laying on the floor.  
  
On his face were streaks of dried blood and his scar - which, together with some self-made scratches, seemed to be the source of all the blood and which was a feverish red - was oozing blood slowly.  
His gaze dropped towards the boy’s hands and he noticed the gashes on the floor and the torn nails, probably from when he had tried to distract himself from the pain.  
  
He gently shooed the snakes that were still resting on the boy’s body away and quickly cast a powerful diagnostic spell - one that would tell him everything - on the boy, only to suck in his breath in shock as he noticed the results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expello Viscus means: Expel Entrails (Entrail-Expelling curse, the Harry Potter wiki didn’t have the incantation nor what it did… So I just used my fantasy…)


	16. Chapter 15

**Family ties  
  
Chapter 15  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
The first thing Harry noticed when he started to regain consciousness was that he felt tired and that he was sore and stiff all over his body. The second thing he noticed was the smell of medical potions and the feeling of silky cotton from the soft covers on the bed. And the third thing he noticed was that - when he tried to move - he was not alone, as several heavy things slid of off him and hisses of irritation sounded.  
  
He quickly opened his eyes only to wish he hadn’t for on the bed – which appeared to be in the room that had been selected as his – were at least a dozen of snakes and serpents, all of which seemed to be laying, or were _previously_ laying, on top of him.  
  
He carefully, mindful of the possibly poisonous snakes and serpents, sat up while keeping his full attention on the creatures laying on top of him, which slid down as soon as he was fully seated. All of them except one rather large, rather heavy and dark greenish snake. The snake had carefully rearranged itself around his shoulders like a scarf, part of its body, which was as thick as a man’s thigh, was wrapped around his upper body and the tail, at least he thought that it was its tail, lay somewhere next to his legs.

It tasted the air, its tongue just barely touching his cheek, and said matter-of-factly: **_“:Master’s hatchling has awoken.:”_**  
Harry just stared into the luminous yellowish eyes in astonishment before he nodded slightly.  
**_“:Master’s hatchling is not going to act like poisoned prey again?:”_** it asked and Harry blinked, puzzled at the snake’s words.  
  
“She wonders if you’re going to act like someone under the Cruciatus curse,” a dry voice sounded and Harry quickly, or as quick as someone with a large snake wrapped around him could, turned his head until he met the red eyes of his _grandfather_ , who appeared once again as he had when he had come to pick him up from the station. He was seated in a chair next to his bedside, a book open in his lap.  
“Snakes have the most _interesting_ way to describe things. I’ll think you’ll come to appreciate it,” Voldemort told him and Harry felt like scoffing but he didn’t react.  
  
“How do you feel?” Voldemort asked when he noticed that he wouldn’t respond and he closed his book, placed it on the bedside table and turned his full attention on him.  
**_“:Fine,:”_** Harry said stubbornly.  
“Don’t lie, your body is trembling and you winced when you turned towards me,” Voldemort said warningly, “I warn you against lying to me. You won’t like the consequences. Do you understand?”  
**_“:Yes sir,:”_** Harry said obediently and the snake wrapped around him sniggered softly. Harry glared at it which caused the snake to give the snake version of a laugh.  
  
“I believe introductions are in order,” Voldemort said almost amused, “the snake wrapped around you is Nagini, my familiar. **_:Nagini the boy you’re wrapped around is, as you had guessed, Harry Potter my… hatchling.:”_**  
The snake nodded and puffed her head against Harry’s chin at which Harry carefully lifted his hand and stroked her head, causing the large snake to hiss in pleasure.  
  
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Voldemort said, “now onto serious matters. I repeat: how do you feel?”  
**_“:Sore and stiff. A bit tired,:”_** Harry answered obstinately.  
“Headache? Sore muscles? Dizzy?” he asked and he drew his wand and laid it down in his lap.  
**_“:A bit,:”_** Harry said softly.

Voldemort hummed before he cast a couple of spell in quick succession.  
“You should feel better by tomorrow morning. If not, give me a sign,” he told him pleased, “Now, can you tell me what happened?”  
**_“:My scar started to hurt when you- well you know,:”_** Harry said stiffly, not willing to think about what had happened to his potion teacher. Voldemort gave a curt, but amused, nod to show that he understood and motioned for him to continue.

 ** _“:When I came to my room I read one of the books, like you ordered,:”_** he told him truthfully. He frowned as he tried to remember what happened after that, **_“:I don’t really remember much else… just pain and falling and blood… and snakes and then… nothing.:”_**  
  
Voldemort nodded as he put his wand away.  
“Do you know what a Horcrux is?” he asked softly. Harry just blinked at him confused.  
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” Voldemort said amused, “now, something else: I want you to tell me what you know about the Order of the Phoenix. Remember: your friends safety is on the line.”  
  
**_“:Wait, can I ask a question?:”_** Harry interrupted him softly and he kept his attention on the snake, which he was still petting, wrapped around him.  
A long fingered hand grabbed his chin and pulled until his green eyes met the red ones of Voldemort.

“First of all: if you want to ask me something look at me,” he told him sternly, but there was a pleased note noticeable in his voice, “second of all: you’re allowed to ask me anything you want to know but don’t expect me to answer some of them. I’ll not lie to you but there are some things you’re too _young_ for. Do you understand?”  
Harry nodded but he couldn’t help but feel angry at the fact that _everyone_ seemed to find him too young for things. First Dumbledore, than the Order and now Voldemort.  
  
“It has nothing to do with your age or your childhood,” Voldemort said softly, “there are things so dark _or_ light that they are too dangerous to handle without proper knowledge or full maturity. And with full maturity I mean the fact that your magic core isn’t stable enough until at _least_ your eighteenth birthday. And that’s rather _early_ for a magical maturity.”  
Harry nodded again, slightly placated with the explanation.  
  
**_“:Can you tell me what a ho- hocrucs is?:”_** he asked him curiously.  
“Horcrux,” Voldemort corrected him, “I’ll make you a deal about that piece of information. You’ll try to find out what they are on your own – with the help of the books in my, _our_ personal library and the school library, of course - and I’ll tell you about them once you can tell me what you’ve found. Deal?”  
Harry thought it over for a couple of seconds before he nodded.  
  
“Good, any other questions?” Voldemort asked at which Harry shook his head, “Now then: the Order?”  
Harry hesitated before he asked softly: **_“:Sirius, Remus and the Weasleys are protected right? No one will hurt them if I give you the information?:”_**  
“You’ve my word,” Voldemort said and he sounded truly pleased.  
Harry nodded and took a deep breath and closed his eyes before he said cautiously: **_“:There is not a lot I know…:”_**  
“It doesn’t matter,” Voldemort told him almost soothingly and Nagini rubbed her head against his cheek in an attempt to comfort him. Harry opened his eyes and nodded.  
  
**_“:What do you want to know?:”_** he finally asked.  
“Let’s start with the members,” Voldemort said softly, “how many do you know?”  
**_“:I know that Remus, Sirius and the eldest Weasleys, except Percy, are in the Order,:”_** Harry started softly and he bit his lip as he considered what else to tell, **_“:I’m not quite sure about the others… I now that some of the Hogwarts teachers are in the Order, but I’m not aware which ones are… except McGonagall and Snape… Er… can I put McGonagall on the list?:”_**

Harry cringed slightly after that question but bravely kept his eyes trained on the Dark Lord’s red ones.  
“I’ll think about it but it’ll depend on your behaviour,” Voldemort said slowly, “are there more people you want to add to your ‘list’?”  
**_“:Er… Nymphadore Tonks, she too is an Order member… and that was it, I think,:”_** Harry said after a couple of seconds.  
  
“I’ll consider it,” Voldemort said before he motioned for Harry to continue.  
**_“:There are a couple of aurors. I mentioned Tonks… and there is a black guy… Kingsley, I think, Kingsley something,:”_** Harry said frowning.  
“You don’t want to protect him?” Voldemort said mockingly.

Harry just ignores him and continued, not willing to think about the people he was betraying.  
**_“:Then there is this one thief, I think his name is Fletcher? Something with ‘Dung’ and then Fletcher,:”_** He said, **_“:And there is a Hestia something… and something Vane… and Hagrid! Can I add Hagrid to the list?:”_**  
“That halfbreed?” Voldemort sneered, “his only use is the fact that he _is_ a half-giant!”  
Harry wanted to glare at him, badly, but he managed to keep it down and he glared at the covers of his bed.  
“No, you are _not_ allowed to add him to the list,” Voldemort said annoyed.  
  
**_“:Why not?:”_** Harry asked angrily and he fixed his glare onto the older wizard, **_“:He’s my friend!:”_**  
“And he is completely loyal to Dumbledore,” Voldemort sneered coldly and he grabbed Harry’s face and squeezed, “Do you know what that means?”

Harry kept glaring at him but didn’t react and Voldemort squeezed harder.  
“Do you know what that means?,” he repeated, “ It means that he would _kill_ for the old coot! He is a disaster waiting to happen!”

 ** _“:He is my friend!:”_** Harry insisted furiously.  
**_“:He is not your friend,:”_** Voldemort snarled and he squeezed harder, ****_“:He is just a pawn for Dumbledore. One that would abandon you the moment Dumbledore would order it of him!:”  
“:He would not!:”_ Harry snarled and he tried to pull away from the Dark Lord. His magic was sparking angrily – as was Voldemort’s magic – and their magic was battering against each other, trying to beat the other into submission.  
  
Nagini hissed in irritation but both wizards ignored her and after a couple of minutes in which nothing else happened she slithered down from Harry’s shoulders and onto the floor before she left. All the while hissing about angry flashes.  
  
Finally, after about five minutes, Harry, who was still tired and whose magic had been depleted because of his wounds, had to admit defeat and he collapsed against the pillows, his eyes pained and tired.

“I will leave him alone but you’re not allowed to add him to your list,” Voldemort said coldly, “and only on the condition that you will not question me again. If you do question me I’ll order my men to capture him and I’ll torture and kill him in front of you! Do you understand?”  
Harry nodded tiredly and he yawned, ignoring the hand that was still holding his chin.

Voldemort sneered down at him and he squeezed one more time in warning before he stood and left, slamming the door close.  
  
**oOoOoOo  
**  
That had been a disaster. Why couldn’t the boy just do as he was told? Or believe him? For Morgana’s sake, he was the older, more experienced wizard!  
Voldemort growled angrily as he stalked towards his throne room, scaring Wormtail into running away when he stalked past him with his magic cracking angrily and eerily.  
  
He hoped that Severus was still around, preferably alive, so he could curse him into oblivion.  
**_“:Can I eat him now?:”_** Nagini asked curiously and she came up to slither next to him. Her words helped to calm him down and he took a deep breath before he answered.  
**_“:No, he just needs to learn,:”_** Voldemort answered softly, before he suddenly smirked, **_“:In fact, you are going to help me with that.:”_**  
**_“:By eating him?:”_** Nagini asked hopefully.  
Voldemort smirked darkly and sadistically at her words, **_“:No, by hunting something else.:”_**  
  
**oOo  
**  
Later that night, when he travelled carefully into the mind of his sleeping heir to search for the rest of the information he noticed something _odd_ and he immediately retreated angrily. For in his heir’s mind he had found the full names of the persons he had mentioned.  
  
On the one hand he was angry as he had warned his heir against lying, on the other hand he was actually proud and _pleased_ with the fact that the boy had used his Slytherin side, as he hadn’t lied, not directly.  
  
But he still had to teach the boy his lesson, as he couldn’t have him rebel against him.  
****_“:Oh Nagini!:”_ He hissed out darkly and he smirked, his eyes gleaming with sadism.


	17. Chapter 16

**Family ties  
  
Chapter 16  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells, inside the memory …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
The door was thrown open and Harry quickly whirled around from his spot by the fire in the study which had been made his - where he had sat down only an hour ago to read one of the books, like Voldemort had ordered him to just a day ago - only to see said Dark Lord enter. A large, heavy, stone bowl was in his hand and his familiar was following at his heels.   
Nagini seemed to have eaten recently as she had a bulge just behind her head, and he was sure that that was _not_ normal. Not that he knew that much about snakes…  
  
He had seen Voldemort that morning when he had come to check upon him and to warn him against walking around the house, as some of his more _trigger_ happy minions would be around to give him their reports, so he hadn’t really expected to see the _man_ again that day.  
  
“I’ve something to show you,” he told him and he placed the bowl on the table, “do you know what this is?”  
Harry placed the book down and stood and walked towards the table to take a better look at the bowl. He could see, now that he was standing near it, that it was filled with a silvery liquid.  
****_“:A pensieve, right?:”_ He answered cautiously, as he didn’t want the same headache as he had had yesterday after their little _fight_.

“That’s right,” Voldemort answered pleased, “now first: I swear on my magic that all of the memories I’ll be showing you today will be authentic, no one has tempered with them.”  
Harry looked at him curiously and nodded that he understood.  
  
**_“:Nagini, if you would,:”_** Voldemort turned towards his familiar and Nagini rose slightly before she started to twitch, causing the bulge to move forward and eventually out of her mouth.  
Harry couldn’t help the angry hiss that escaped his throat as he noticed that the rat, as that was what she had… eaten, had a silver paw. It was dirty and it didn’t move, it didn’t even seem to notice them.

 ** _“:What is Wormtail doing here?:”_** Harry almost snarled.  
“I’m going to show you his memories,” Voldemort said calmly, “but I had to make sure that you actually believed that the memories would be authentic; hence Wormtail’s presence.”  
  
He brandished his wand and quickly cast a _Rennervate_ at him before he used the Animagus Reversal Spell on him.  
Harry watched how the rat changed back to the snivelling, weak man that he had met in his third year. Wormtail bowed low and wouldn’t meet their eyes and Harry wondered for the umpteenth time why a coward like him was sorted in Gryffindor.

“Wormtail,” Voldemort barked almost immediately, “your vow!”  
“I-I s-swear on m-my m-magic t-that I-I h-haven’t t-temp-pered w-with the m-memor-ries,” Wormtail stuttered.  
“Good, come here,” Voldemort ordered and the rat crawled towards him. Voldemort quickly put his wand against the coward’s sleep and started to pull memory after memory from his head until the pensieve’s surface had increased to almost twice the amount that it had had.

“You’re dismissed,” he finally said after he was done and Wormtail stood and almost ran from the room.  
  
“Now, what you should know it that Wormtail cannot remember about three fourth of these memories,” Voldemort told him, “Do you know what an _Obliviate_ does?”  
**_“:I wipes the mind, right?:”_** Harry asked hesitant.  
“Not really, it scatters the memory and places another fake one in its place so the person cannot remember it,” Voldemort told him in a tone he would have expected from a teacher, “normally it is not harmful to the person, except when it has been used a lot of times on a single individual. If that is the case that person will change in such a way that his or her character will change completely to match the memories he or she _does_ have. This is the case by Wormtail.”  
  
Harry blinked surprised.  
**_“:He has been obliviated?:”_** he asked incredulously.  
“Yes, multiple times over a time period of more than seven years,” Voldemort told him and he motioned for him to come closer , “that’s what I am going to show you. Do you know how a pensieve works?”  
**_“:Yes,:”_** Harry nodded and he took a couple of hesitant steps forward until he could touch the surface of the pensieve.  
“Well, get in already,” Voldemort snapped, “I will not be following you.”  
  
Harry nodded, stretched out his arm and carefully touched the surface, only to be sucked in immediately.  
  
**oOo**  
  
_Harry looked around curiously as soon as his feet touched the stones in the memory._  
It seemed that he had landed in the chamber in which the first years were gathered before the actual sorting and he quickly looked around to see if he could find familiar faces. His eyes immediately shot towards the form of a young Sirius Black, whom he only recognized due to his eyes and hair, and his father, whom he recognized because he himself did look a lot like his father had at that age though he had started to look more like his mother, and grandfather, now that he was older.   
  
His eyes searched for other familiar faces and he couldn’t help the soft shocked sound that escaped him as his eyes met their mirror image, it seemed that he had found his mother. His gaze shifted towards her companion, only for another shocked sound to escape him as he noticed that  Severus Snape was standing next to her and talking to her like they were best friends.  
  
He searched further until his eyes fell upon the owner of these memories, Peter Pettigrew, who stood next to a tired looking Remus Lupin. This Peter Pettigrew looked nothing like the older, cowardly version. In fact, this one looked happy and healthy and bravely met the eyes of everyone around him. And, while nervous, he smiled at everyone whose eyes he met while he chatted softly with Remus. Harry wondered what had happened to him that had changed him so, before he remembered what Voldemort had told him.  
  
The door opened and a younger version of McGonagall entered the room and told them that they were ready for them and the first years followed them silently. Harry watched, from his spot right next to the hat, as first Sirius and then his mother were sorted in Gryffindor, both seemed glad to be sorted in that House. He watched as Remus’ sorting lasted longer than the others before he too was sorted in Gryffindor and how others were sorted in the other Houses.  
  
And then it was this young version of Peter’s turn. He made his way over to the hat, not as confident as Sirius had been, but more confident than Harry had expected of the boy.  
The hat had barely touched his head before it shouted ‘Gryffindor’ and Peter, while beaming, made his way over to Remus. Harry followed him, curious as to what he would tell the young werewolf.

 _“It told me that I would be a great asset to Gryffindor!” Peter said beaming, “It said that I was a true Gryffindor!”  
Remus just smiled at him as he shushed him and Harry watched on, completely bewildered, as the memory turned black.  
  
_**oOo**  
  
_He watched a couple of quick snippets of memories in which Remus and Peter met Sirius and James and how they became great friends really quickly.  
He watched as Peter came up with daring pranks Harry had never sought after him and how Peter talked to everyone and how he was friendly with everyone, even Snape.  
  
And then it slowed down to one memory.  
Peter - who seemed to be slightly older and if Harry had to make a guess he would say that he was in his second year - carefully levitated a badly wounded Sirius and an unconscious James in front of him as he entered the familiar setting of the Hospital Wing, he himself limped slightly and Harry could see the blood trickle down his leg from a nasty leg wound, courtesy of what seemed to be claws.  
A younger looking Madame Pomfrey bustled towards him and said, “Oh dear, what happened to you three?”  
  
“We…,” Peter gulped as he levitated his friends, both of them unconscious by now, onto the beds, “we followed Remus tonight as we were curious where he went every full moon…”  
“Oh dear,” Madame Pomfrey repeated and she quickly walked over to the two boys and started to cast spells in a quick succession, “luckily none of you seemed to have been bitten.”  
She quickly healed his leg wound, “now why don’t you firecall the Headmaster?”  
  
Peter nodded and ran towards the fireplace and did as he was ordered. A couple of minutes later, Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace and Peter quickly told him the same story as he had told the nurse.  
“That was very brave of you, my dear boy,” Dumbledore said kindly and his eyes twinkled, “but I can’t have you remember this, you would only shun poor Remus. I’m sorry for this: Obliviate!”  
The memory turned black._  
  
**oOo**  
  
_Harry watched on as the Marauders, as they had been dubbed by the teachers, kept getting into dangerous situations and fights and how Peter managed to give as good as he got, only to be obliviated time and again by Dumbledore as he discovered things he shouldn’t have, like the Dark Mark on Lucius Malfoy or Aragog. And, as the time went by, Harry noticed that Peter started to lose his bravery, his outgoing character and how he stopped offering ideas for pranks, only to start to show signs that he was turning into the man he recognized._  
  
And then he came by their fourth year. It was raining outside and the trees seemed to drop their leaves as he watched. Harry assumed that it was somewhere around November.   
He noticed how Sirius and James came into the Gryffindor Common Room, a thick book into their hands and how they told them about the fact that Dumbledore had given them this book, a book about Animagus transformations.  
  
“Oh, but I’m sorry Peter, we had to promise that we can’t teach you,” Sirius told them after he had told them their tale. It was too cheerfully and Peter’s face fell as he asked timidly, “but why not?”  
“Dumbledore mentioned something about ‘it being dangerous’,” James answered and he smiled sadly at his friend, “and we kinda promised to not tell you… you won’t tell any of the others, right?”  
Peter nodded and he ducked his head sadly as Sirius and James thanked him before they ran towards their dorm room.

 _Peter turned towards Remus and asked: “can’t you teach me?”  
“I’m sorry Peter, but if Dumbledore thinks it’s too dangerous…” Remus said but he trailed off as he noticed the teary eyes of his friend, “but I can ask why he finds it too dangerous…”  
Peter nodded but at least he didn’t cry anymore.  
  
The memory turned black, only to change into the same room. Only Remus and Peter where there and it seemed to be the next day.  
“I asked him and he said that, as your marks had started to get lower and lower with each passing year, the risk for you to get stuck in your form is too dangerous,” Remus said softly, “I’m sorry.”  
Peter nodded as Remus walked away from him and Harry heard him swear softly that he would become an Animagus, even if he had to do it on his own.  
  
Harry watched on as Dumbledore Obliviated him the same day.  
  
_**oOo**  
  
_They were once again in the Gryffindor Common Room but it seemed that time had passed again and Harry guessed that it was their fifth year, somewhere around the beginning of spring as the sun shone weakly and the trees and flowers had just barely started to bloom._  
“J-James, can you help me with my T-Transformation homework after dinner?” Peter asked timidly.  
“Yeah, sure Pete,” James answered casually as he kept playing with his quill.  
  
Harry watched as dinner went by and how Peter sat in the Common Room, alone and waiting for his friend to show up. The time ticked by and it was near midnight when both James, Sirius and Remus stumbled into the Common Room.  
  
“H-hey guys,” Peter greeted them timidly, “I-I’ve been waiting for you.”  
Harry almost wished that he was the same boy as he had been in his first year, the boy who would have yelled at his friends for forgetting about his request.

 _“Oh, I’m so sorry,” James quickly apologized as he finally released why the other boy had waited for them but Harry could see that he wasn’t very sorry, “but Dumbledore has been giving us special lessons to help us become Aurors!”  
  
Peter nodded, “C-can you h-help me n-now?”  
“I’m sorry, but I’m just too tired,” James said and he yawned, “How about tomorrow?”  
And he walked away without waiting for an answer, closely followed by the other two boys and Harry noticed how the boy’s face contorted into a mask of helplessness and dislike._  
  
**oOo  
  
**_“I’m sorry, my boy, but I can’t have people know that I’ve been giving those pupils extra lessons. Obliviate!”  
  
“I’m sorry, dear boy, but I can’t have you know about Severus being a Death Eater, it would only end up with him in prison. Obliviate!”  
  
“I’m sorry, child, but I can’t have you know about the location of our headquarters, it would be too dangerous for the others as your mind is too open! Obliviate!”  
  
“I’m sorry, Peter, but I can’t have you know about the Prophecy, it would endanger your friends. Obliviate!”_  
_  
Harry watched on as Dumbledore kept Obliviating Peter for things that would be hazardous for other peoples’ health, never once thinking about Peter’s own health and he wondered how no one had ever noticed that Peter didn’t seem to know things that they thought he did.  
  
And then he saw how Peter was driven to Voldemort, the only person who would accept him the way he had become; too afraid of his own friends and too cowardly to protect and defend himself.  
  
The last memory turned back and Harry was thrown out of the pensieve._  
  
**oOo**  
  
“Now, do you understand what I mean with: ‘abandon you the moment Dumbledore orders it’?” Voldemort asked him harshly.  
Harry just nodded tiredly, not knowing what to say or what to think about what he had seen about Dumbledore, though he was aware that Voldemort probably did the exact same thing to _his_ people.


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: not mine.  
> Warnings: none.

**Family Ties  
  
Chapter 17  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells, inside the memory …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry’s mind buzzed and swirled with questions which had been called forth by the memories. He felt as if the ground had fallen away from underneath him and the fear that Dumbledore had obliviated him – or his friends – spread through him.  
He was silent for a couple of minutes in which he tried to form a intelligible sentence before he finally asked, **_“:if Wormtail was obliviated, how can you access his memories?:”  
_**  
“Have you ever heard of _Occlumency_ or _Legilimency_?” Voldemort asked him, seemingly randomly, and Harry shook his head, too confused and too bewildered to answer in words.  
“Both _Legilimency_   and _Occlumency_ are obscure branches of magic,” Voldemort lectured, “one of them is the magical defence of the mind against external penetration - mostly against the other - while the other one is the act of magically navigating through the many layers of a person's mind and correctly interpreting one's findings. Can you guess which one is which?”  
Harry shook his head again.  
  
“Hm, pity,” Voldemort muttered, “I take it they don’t teach Latin in Hogwarts anymore? Anyway, _Legilimency_ is the art of penetrating another person’s mind, _Occlumency_ is the art of defending one’s mind. Do you follow me so far?”  
**_“:So… Legilimency is like reading someone’s mind?:”_** Harry asked, his brows furrowed in thought as he tried to comprehend what Voldemort had told him.  
“No, while it seems that way it is _not_ like reading a person’s mind,” Voldemort said patiently, “ _Legilimency_ is more subtle but also more complicated. While ‘reading a person’s mind’ is possible – and it actually _is_ a form of _Legilimency_ – it’s a weaker and more easier version as you can’t choose what you want to know from that person, you’re just assaulted with the thoughts that person is thinking at that moment. With _Legilimency_ you can actively _choose_ what you want to know from another person. Do you understand?”  
  
**_“:I think so…:”_** Harry said hesitantly before he frowned, **_“:But what does Legilimency have to do with Wormtail’s mind?:”_**  
Voldemort sighed, “think, child! And out loud, I want to hear your ideas.”  
Harry couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable by that last _order_ but he complied anyway.  
**_“:His memories were scattered so he couldn’t access them,:”_** he mused out loud, **_“:but they were still there, right?:”_**  
Voldemort nodded, clearly pleased at what he had said.  
****_“:So, can a Legilimency person see them?:”_ he asked slowly.  
“It’s called _legilimens_ , not a _Legilimency_ person,” Voldemort said, “but yes, a _legilimens_ is able to see every memory, including ones that have been scattered by the _Obliviate_.”

**_“How did he become an Animagus?:”_** Harry asked curiously, **_“:Dumbledore obliviated that part, right?:”_**  
“It was an accident,” Voldemort said amused, “his _friends_ had left their notes behind. He found them and decided to practice it all by himself. They were surprised of course but it was too late to do something about it. Now, do you have other questions?”

Harry shook his head, not ready – though he doubted that he would ever trust the man enough – to ask the man to search his mind for tampering.  
“Good,” Voldemort said and he stood, “as it is almost time for dinner, I suggest you redress. I’ll come back in twenty minutes.”  
**_“:What do you mean: it’s almost time for dinner?:”_** Harry asked curiously, **_“:It was not even time for lunch when you came in!:”_**  
“Did you ever consider that you’ve spent quite some time in the pensieve?”Voldemort asked him, his eyebrow raised mockingly. Harry didn’t answer and the Dark Lord left, leaving a confused Harry behind.  
  
**oOo  
**  
It had been a couple of hours after dinner and Harry was once again seated in the chair by the fire reading one of the books that Voldemort had assigned him. It was just one of the basic potion books – potions was still one of the courses he had trouble with, even with the time he had spent alone in the library trying to understand it all… though he did get higher marks – and he had to admit that he was getting… frustrated.  
While he could cook – and he knew that he was quite the cook as the Dursleys had stopped complaining about the food he made for them since he was seven – he just didn’t understand some of the steps one had to make while making a potion. And having Snape - who just didn’t explain a thing – as a teacher didn’t help either.  
  
He gave a soft, hissed growl before he slammed the book shut and dropped it on the floor next to his chair, a scowl on his face. He twisted in his seat until he could glare at it. In the end, he ended up hanging over the arm-rests of the chair with his head on one side of the chair and his legs on the other side. Not that he really cared about it.   
Besides, it wasn’t like there was someone there with him.  
  
**_“:Weird hatchling,:”_** a soft, female sounding hissing sounded and Harry twisted quickly so he could look at its owner but ended up falling of the chair in the process.  
A soft hissing sounded and Harry glared at the laughing snake, at least he thought it was laughing…  
****_“:What?:”_ he snapped as he quickly scrambled back on the chair.  
  
The snake - and Harry was sure that this was the same snake that had wrapped itself around him when he had fallen sick _that_ night – stopped her laughter before she slithered closer and up the chair, where she wound  herself around him before she lay her head on his shoulder.

Harry stiffened but didn’t try to push the snake away, too afraid of what the snake could do and not willing to anger Voldemort by hurting his precious pets.

**_“:Don’t be afraid, little hatchling,:”_** the snake practically cooed, which was just plain weird for Harry, **_“:I’m not going to harm you. I just want to get the know master’s hatchling.:”_**  
**_“:Er. Okay,:”_** Harry said wondering what a snake of all things wanted to know about him.  
**_“:You lived with two-legged prey, right?:”_** she asked and Harry couldn’t help but blink in confusion.  
**_“:What do you mean?:”_** he finally asked after he couldn’t translate her words.  
**_“:Everyone whom I’m allowed to eat is prey – you are not prey and master’s two-legged are not prey – but the rest of the two-legged are prey,:”_** the snake explained patiently, **_“:Though some taste like earth or mud. If I were to eat you, you would taste different.:”_**  
Harry blinked and shivered slightly before he answered, **_“:Er, yes I lived with mu- two-legged prey.:”_**

**_“:What were they like?:”_** Nagini asked curiously.  
Harry just stared at her wearily, **_“:Fine, I guess?:”_**  
**_“:Master told me that you had little prey when you were a small hatchling,:”_** Nagini stated, **_“:were your two-legged prey bad hunters?:”_**  
**_“:Not really,:”_** Harry answered softly and he shrugged slightly.  
**_“:They just didn’t feed you,:”_** Nagini said in a matter-of-fact tone, **_“:They never fed master either when he was a small hatchling. He told me himself.:”_**  
Harry just blinked, not quite sure how he should feel about that piece of information.

**_“:Did they treat you as prey?:”_** Nagini asked curiously.  
**_“:They didn’t tried to eat me,:”_** he told her slightly amused.  
**_“:That was not what I meant,:”_** the snake scolded him – and Harry decided that that was about as weird as having a snake cooing over him, **_“:did they treat you like I treat the rat-man?:”_**  
**_“:Er…,:”_** Harry had no idea how to respond. Would she tell his _grandfather_? And why did she want to know anyway?

**_“:I’ll take that as a: Yes Nagini, they treated me in the same way as you treat the rat-man,:”_** the snake hissed softly and she rubbed her head against his cheek as her coils tightened around him, **_“:Poor hatchling, Nagini will protect you from now on, just like she has protected master!:”_**  
Harry had no clue as to how he should react on that so he just started to pet the part of her body which he could actually reach with her body wrapped around him.

****_“:Yes, you’ll make a fine hatchling for master and for Nagini,:”_ the snake hissed pleased.

**oOoOoOo**

“Filthy muggles,” Voldemort sneered disgusted as he watched down on the three in front of him.   
He had ordered Mcnair to bring him Harry’s _former_ caretakers the night before. However, his minion had informed him that very morning that the wards around the house were too strong to break in a couple of minutes – at least without notifying the old coot Dumbledore – and that neither he, nor anyone else he had brought, could enter.

So Voldemort had decided to get them himself, after all, he _did_ carry some of Harry’s blood. Besides, the woman had almost _pulled_ him inside as soon as she had seen his handsome face and his clearly expensive clothing.

He took another couple of steps forward until he was standing in front of the bars of the small, dank cell he had locked them in as soon as he had entered his home.   
The manor had a large dungeon filled with rooms. Included were a large potion lab, a couple of holding cells – both large, clean ones and small dank ones like the one he had locked the muggles in – and a couple of torture chambers, some of which were filled with everything used by muggles during the witch-hunts. Apparently one of his ancestors had a weird sense of humour and thought it fitting to use muggle equipment to torture muggles. It was the finest sense of irony he had seen in a long time.

“Do you know why the three of you are here?” he asked harshly and the three muggles looked up at him. He looked once again like a fifty year old version of Tom Riddle – as he doubted that the muggles would have dealt with him if he had appeared on their doorstep looking like a snake-human hybrid – and he had found that he enjoyed the freedom of that form. Sadly enough, it wasn’t permanent. Yet.

The walrus of a man hoisted himself on his feet - which seemed rather hard for him and took a while – before he raised his fists and shouted, the spit flying everywhere, “HOW DARE YOU KIDNAP US! DO YOU KNOW WHO WE ARE?”  
“I believe I’m talking to one Vernon Dursley, one Petunia Dursley and one Dudley Dursley” Voldemort told him amused, a cold smile playing around his lips, “the former caretakers of one Harry Potter, son of Lily Potter née Evans and James Potter.”

The man’s head turned purple at the mention of his heir and he looked ready to continue his shouting match but the woman stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm, though both tried to shield the boy from his vision.  
“We don’t know who you are talking about,” she sniffed pathetically, “it has always been the three of us! Please, just let us go and we won’t tell the cops or sue you.”

Voldemort tossed his head back and laughed. It was a cold, high sound which always scared people and haunted them long after he had disappeared.

“I don’t think so,” he stated cruelly, “you see, you harmed something that belongs to me. And I always defend that what belongs to me.”  
“W-we don’t know what you’re talking about!” the walrus sputtered.  
“Of course not,” Voldemort said indifferently, “besides, I need to test something – and someone – and the three of you are perfect for that particular test.”

Both the man and the woman paled as they understood what he implied.  
“N-no, p-please,” the woman begged an she sobbed slightly as she hugged her whale of a son tightly, “have mercy!”  
“Mercy? I’m merciful as it is,” he told them cruelly as he ignored the blubbering mess they had become, “I haven’t tortured you nor have I hurt you. Besides, I’m not the one who gets to call if you live or die. In a manner of speaking anyway.”

And he turned away to leave, the woman’s pleads following after him as he laughed that cold laugh once again.

**oOo**

He softly entered the room, aware of the time and the fact that the boy should be sleeping. The hearth glowed softly and the lights were turned off so he quickly entered the next room – the boy’s bedroom – only to stop short at the sight.  
The boy was once again surrounded by snakes – as he had ordered – and all of them had been alert and hissing at him the moment he had entered the room.

**_“:At ease,:”_** he hissed softly and the snakes relaxed, **_“:Nagini?:”_**  
The biggest snake carefully slithered her way out of the pile from where she had been coiled around the boy – carefully as to not wake him – and made her way over to him.  
**_“:Did he tell you?:”_** he asked her softly.  
**_“:Yesss,:”_** she answered, pleased.


	19. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: not mine.  
> Warnings: none.

**Family Ties  
  
Chapter 18  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells, inside the memory …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Bellatrix frowned as she looked up at the Lestrange Mansion. Or what was left of it. Her dark hair and her dress were dirty with the mud and dirt from the ruins in front of her.

What had once been a stately, grand home – similar to a small castle – was now nothing more than a ruin. The four towers had all but collapsed and the still standing part of the roof of the castle was overgrown with vines and other plants. The West wing of the mansion _had_ collapsed. Only the walls were left of the North and East wings. The South wing missed one of its walls. Lastly, the garden and forest were overgrown with magical weeds and vines, the latter could also be found overgrowing the entire house.

They - meaning Bellatrix, her husband and her husband’s brother - had been staying with their Lord ever since they had been broken out of Azkaban. But he had told – _ordered_ – them to search for another place to stay in the beginning of December. He had not given them a reason, but Bellatrix had been happy to obey him anyway.

So they had been staying with her sister in Malfoy Manor ever since. The only condition was that they would check upon the Lestrange Mansion, restore it to its former glory – if it was necessary - and move in there as soon as possible. They had agreed as they had nowhere else to go.

“We might as well have Lucius hire some people to rebuild this place,” Rodolphus sneered in disgust as he toed one of the many pieces of stone that were laying around.  
Rabastan snorted softly and responded sarcastically, “yes, because that will help our Lord; have Lucius hire people to rebuild the home of a family which consists of well-known and convicted Death Eaters.”

“Well, what else could we do?” Rodolphus asked irritated, “we can’t live with the Malfoy’s forever, if they would even allow that. Our Lord kicked us out of _his_ manor and I still want to know why. Not to forget that our own home is a bloody ruin!”  
“Rodo, stops questioning our Lord,” Bellatrix said, frowning, “he must have had a very good reason to ask us to remove ourselves from his house.”  
“And that reason is?” Rodolphus asked annoyed as he kicked against a piece of rumble, “besides, we were talking about how we would get our mansion inhabitable.”

“Can’t we ask Lucius to buy a new house for us?” Rabastan wondered out loud, “if we were to do that we would have a home and we could always rebuild this _place_ once the war has been won by our Lord!”  
“You know, that might actually work,” Bellatrix said slowly as she pulled out her wand and cast a quick _Tempus_ , “we’ll ask Lucius as soon as he returns to Malfoy Manor. But for now: I believe our Lord wanted to talk to us about something in about half an hour. So I suggest we return to Malfoy Manor and leave for the Dark Lord’s Mansion.”  
Both men muttered something under their breath but did as she had suggested.  
  
**oOo**  
  
“Oh, look what I found!” Bellatrix exclaimed cheerfully as she skipped towards the three imprisoned people, her eyes – which were normally heavily hooded – large and bright at the prospect of causing pain to another human being, “Muggle playthings for itty Bella!”  
  
Her Lord had informed her of her mission just minutes ago after which he had ordered her to leave the throne room as he wanted to talk to Rodolphus and Rabastan about something. Her own mission had been disgustingly mundane. It had something to do with getting books from the Black library. But even though she had no clue as to what the Dark Lord wanted with those books – as she was sure that he had far better books – or knew where to find them, she would do as ordered.

The last thing the Dark Lord had told her before she left the room was that she was only allowed inside the dungeons and the main hall, everything else was off-limits to her.  
  
She cackled as the Muggle man, who looked more like a humanoid walrus then a human being, glared at her. He waddled towards her until he stood in front of a Muggle woman who looked slightly horse-like and a Muggle boy who had something of a cross between a pig and a gorilla, the only difference was that the boy was blond and tanned and not black-haired or pink.

The humanoid walrus puffed himself up – his face a dark purple – and shouted, “LET US OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW, YOU HEAR ME!”  
Bellatrix blinked slightly before she pouted, “doesn’t Bella’s new plaything want to play with her?”  
“What are you talking about you crazy freak,” the woman shrieked as she moved to stand behind her _husband_?

Bellatrix bared her teeth in a sharp grin and pulled out her wand. The woman shrieked in fear and dove back to her place behind the walrus. The walrus paled rapidly and Bellatrix was almost worried that he would faint and ruin her playtime. The boy on the other hand grabbed his overly large bottom and whimpered as he tried to disappear into the wall of the small and dingy cell. And they called _her_ crazy.

With a quick swish of her wand the door opened and she moved to enter the cell. Only to be stopped as the man ran – _blubbered_ – towards her in a clear attempt to either defend himself and his family or to escape.

Bellatrix raised her wand and shouted delighted, “ _Crucio_!”  
The red light hit the walrus and he went down hard while screaming loudly. The woman gave a horrified gasp and ran forward to check on her husband.

“Vernon!” she shouted horrified as he kept screaming, “what did you do to my Vernon, you crazy bitch!”

Bellatrix just cackled as she removed the curse from the trashing walrus and cast it onto the horse. The woman immediately started screaming and the man tried to get up, most likely in an attempt to protect her. But it was clear that he was too sore, too stiff and too hurt to do anything but lay there, whimper in pain and pant for breath.

“Bellatrix,” the cold, high voice of her Lord sounded and she immediately cancelled the spell and bowed towards him, “I don’t remember giving you permission to hurt those Muggles, now have I?”  
“No my Lord,” Bellatrix muttered as she squirmed under those angrily narrowed, red eyes in the snake-like face.  
“Then why are you torturing them and not one of the other prisoners you _are_ allowed to torture?” he asked silkily.

“I have no excuse, my Lord,” she said softly.  
“I thought so,” he drawled, “now, I’ve given Rodolphus and Rabastan their assignments so you can leave to whatever place you call home.”  
And he turned to leave, “oh, and Bellatrix, I expect you to bring me those books in two days.”  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry sighed as he closed his book. It had been three days since he had seen Pettigrew’s memories and he was bored. All he had been allowed to do was sit in his chambers, read the books Voldemort had assigned him, make the homework assigned for after the winter break and talk to the many snakes and serpents which had decided to inhabit his rooms and which shared his bed as soon as he was asleep.

Besides that, he hadn’t seen anyone – not counting the snakes and serpents – since that day and Christmas was in just _two_ days. He wondered briefly if Voldemort celebrated it.

He had found that he actually enjoyed talking to the snakes, as they had their own definition or word for almost everything.  Just like Voldemort had said he would, not that he would ever admit it to that snake-faced, smug bastard.   
Those definitions and words seemed as confusing as they were terribly amusing. However, most of the time he had no idea what they meant to say.  
  
He lifted his hand and softly stroked the head of the snake resting on his shoulder - almost absently - as he thought about the change in him since the start of the school year. If anyone had asked him about snakes the year before he would have answered that they were slimy, creepy creatures which would lie and which were out to kill him as they would probably take orders from Voldemort.   
  
He would have been wrong on almost all of the mentioned points. Snakes were not slimy and only slightly creepy. They couldn’t lie if they were asked direct questions – they were allowed to evade the question or manipulate the answer until it suited their needs, though – but they did take orders from Voldemort. Strangely enough, they also took _his_ orders. If he were to order a snake to move away from him it would, even though it was very clear that it didn’t _want_ to move.  
  
The door to the corridor opened and Harry looked up to see Voldemort standing in the doorway.  
“Come with me,” he ordered curtly.  
Harry blinked at him but stood, mindful of the snake wrapped around his shoulders, and walked towards the Dark Lord, only to stop a few feet before him.  
“Leave the snake behind,” he ordered, but he sounded pleased.

**_“:Where are we going?:”_** Harry asked but he didn’t remove the snake, nor did he move closer to his _grandfather_.  
“I want to test something,” Voldemort said before his eyes glinted cruelly, “besides, you owe me an answer to a question I asked the night you came here.”  
Harry frowned as he tried to remember what that question had been but he came up empty.  
****_“:That doesn’t answer the question as to where we are going,:”_ Harry muttered but he gently coaxed the snake to unwrap himself from his shoulders and placed it on the floor.  
  
Voldemort, who had ignored his statement, turned sharply and Harry quickly scrambled after him.  
He led him through many corridors and doors down until he stopped in front of a small, inconspicuous wooden door.  
“In here,” Voldemort said, “but before that, give me your hand with the ring.”  
  
Harry looked at him weirdly but lifted the hand he requested. Voldemort grabbed it, drew his wand and muttered a couple of spells – at least Harry thought that he muttered spells as he couldn’t understand what he had said – before he dropped his hand again and turned back towards the door, opened it and entered the room behind it.  
Harry, who was still bewildered, quickly scrambled after him into what seemed to be the dungeons.  
  
“These are, as you might have guessed, the dungeons,” Voldemort said smoothly as soon as he had caught up with him, “the first few rooms are the potion laboratories. The latter rooms are either cells or interrogation rooms. You might want to stay away from those.”  
Harry had a feeling that with ‘interrogation’ he meant ‘torture’ and Voldemort’s tone only managed to confirm it.  
  
“Er, why are we here?” he asked only to notice the lack of hisses and he frowned, “Am I speaking just plain old English? Why?”  
Voldemort just smirked before he quickened his pace and Harry had to run to keep up with him.  
“Don’t run,” Voldemort admonished him as soon as he had caught up with him, again, “it’s inappropriate for an heir, especially for a heir of an ancient family.”  
“Not like I _asked_ to be one,” Harry muttered softly and bitterly but Voldemort, if he had heard it, ignored him.  
  
They walked for a couple of minutes in silence before Voldemort stopped in front of a small, dirty and dingy cell. The silence was oppressing and Harry couldn’t help but wonder why they were in a dungeon and how big this dungeon was.

The part of the dungeon they stopped at was dark, mouldy and wet. It was light enough to see that the cell contained three people huddled close together but it was too dark to see how old they were, if they were male or female or how they looked.  
  
“I’m sure you wonder why I brought you here,” Voldemort said sibilantly, and the three people in the cell seemed to cling even more to each other.  
“Yes,” Harry said reluctantly, aware that the Dark Lord wanted a verbal response. The three persons in the room seemed to recognize his voice, or they heard the reluctance in his voice, for they split apart and one of them moved to shield the others, which caused the light to fall on the person.  
Harry gasped as he recognized Vernon Dursley.  
  
“I see you recognize him,” Voldemort said cruelly, “good. Remember the question I asked you the first evening you spent here?”  
Harry’s eyes kept flitting between his grandfather and the man he had thought to be his uncle in clear bewilderment and confusion as he wondered what they -as he assumed that the other two were Petunia and Dudley - were doing here.  
  
 “Harry,” Voldemort hissed warningly and Harry quickly turned his full attention to the man.  
“It’s time you answered that question,” Voldemort said softly but his eyes held a cruel light and he seemed to be pleased by something. Harry racked his brain to come up with which question he meant, only to gasp in horror as he remembered the conversation they had had that evening.  
  
“Your family or one of the people of that little list of yours. Choose!”


	20. Chapter 19

**Family Ties  
  
Chapter 19  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells, inside the memory …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
“Albus!” Minerva almost shouted as soon as she entered his office. She was out of breath and she seemed to have stitches. It was as if she ran the entire way from, probably, her office to his office. She was also extremely pale, looked worried, she seemed worn-out and it looked like she had aged a couple of decades since the last time he had seen her which had been during the lunch that very afternoon. It was clear to him that something was very, very wrong.   
  
“Minerva?” Albus asked worriedly as soon as he saw the state she was in, “are you all right, my dear?”  
“it’s Severus, he has been found,” she gasped as she fell ungracefully in one of the chairs in front of his desk. Something she wouldn’t have done if she had been in the right state of mind.

Albus felt his eyes widen and he perked up, “where has he been? Where is he now? Is he alright?”  
“He is dead! Tortured to death according to Moody! His body was a right mess. The only reason they knew it was him was because his _face_ was the only thing that was intact!” she wailed, “and that’s not all, he has been found in the _Dursley’s_ house!”  
  
Albus slumped back in his chair defeated. He felt his age catch up with him and he closed his eyes. Suddenly the colour drained out of his face and his eyes flashed open as he realised what that last piece of information meant.  
“Harry,” Albus whispered worriedly before he hurriedly asked, “are the Dursleys alright? And Harry? Where is Harry? Is he alright?”  
  
“They were not there,” Minerva said and she looked as defeated as he felt, “and from the state the house was in it looked like they have just disappeared. Days ago. The food was still on the table, the television, the oven and lights were still on and the cake or whatever it was – as it’s burned to a crisp – was still in the oven. There is no sign that they were taken by force, no blood and no signs of a struggle. There weren’t even signs that _magic_ had been used in the house!”  
  
“And Harry?” Albus asked as he leaned towards her, his fingers laced together and his eyes showed how worried he was.  
“There are no signs that he has even been in that house for _months_!” Minerva said frustrated, “the room they had assigned as his had a thick layer of dust coating the furniture and there were only three plates and glasses on the table.”  
  
Albus immediately understood what she tried to say and he said slowly, “he told you that he would be going home, didn’t he?”  
“Yes, you _know_ that!” Minerva huffed frustrated, “and you know I _hate_ it that he has to go there! We both know how they treat- treated him.”  
“They were his only family, there was no one else I could think of that could carry the blood wards,” Albus said as he sighed and he removed his glassed to clean them before he said, “does Sirius know where he is?”  
  
“No, I’ve already asked him and Remus if they knew but they were as clueless as the rest of us and Harry isn’t at the Order’s Headquarters. We’ve already determined _that_ ,” Minerva said and she slumped back in her chair, defeated and worried, “where did he go?”  
“I don’t know,” Albus said, just as defeated and worried, “I think it might be best to assemble the Order and have them search for him. It might help to ask his friends if they know where he is, so don’t forget to include miss Granger and mister Weasley in your search.”  
  
He rose from his chair and headed for the door.  
“What are you going to do?” Minerva asked softly as she rose to do as he had told her.  
“It seems that we’re in need of a new potion teacher,” he said sadly, “and I want to find one before the end of this year and before Umbridge finds out about the fact that Severus has gone to the great beyond. Besides, Severus deserves a funeral worthy of someone who died to defend his country.”  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry’s gaze flitted between the Dark Lord and the three muggles locked away in the cell as he tried to come up with an answer to the problem. It was clear that Vernon wanted to say, or more likely _shout_ , something at him but it seemed that he was too afraid of Voldemort to do anything but stand in front of the other two. Harry wondered how long it would take before the man’s temper got the best of him.

He didn’t _want_ to condemn someone to their death! Not even these horrible people.  
“Well Harry, who do you choose?” the Dark Lord all but purred sadistically, “it can’t be _that_ hard to decide.”

Harry tried to ignore his words but he knew, instinctually, that not answering probably meant that Voldemort would remove someone of his list, probably cut their existence short too, just to torment him _and_ torture the three muggles in front of him.   
But Harry still doubted that he could choose. How could he? These were _people_ they were talking about. His insides churned and he bit his lip as he tried to come up with a solution, one that didn’t involve condemning people to their deaths at the hand of a mass murderer.  
  
Voldemort smirked darkly as he started to circle – _stalk_ \- around him like a predator stalking a prey.  
“Think of everything they did to you,” he said softly with a hissing undertone – smoothly, like the snake he seemed to resemble, “think of how they treated you when you were just a small child. Don’t they deserve some kind of _punishment_?”

Harry tried to ignore him and his words. But it was hard, _so_ hard, as he couldn’t help but remember what they had done – or neglected to do – and how they had treated him. Which was probably what Voldemort tried to accomplish.  
  
“Remember their name calling. Remember how you never _even_ knew your own name until you were five and finally went to school,” Voldemort continued, “remember how they made _you_ do their tasks while telling you how _grateful_ you should be that they took you in.”  
Vernon’s head started to turn purple and Harry wished that Voldemort would just shut up and leave him alone.  
  
“Remember how they told you how worthless your parents were, that they were nothing more than a couple of drunkards who managed to get themselves killed in a _car_ accident,” he told him softly and Harry wished desperately that he could tell him to stop. To order him to just _shut up_. But he knew that _that_ would be bad idea.  
“Remember what they to-”   
  
But Vernon seemed to have enough and he interrupted him.  
“SHUT UP YOU- YOU- YOU SNAKE FREAK! AND YOU BOY, GET US OUT OF HERE, YOU FREAK!” he roared – the last part clearly at Harry – and Harry flinched as that brought back even more memories of his childhood, “HOW DARE YOU TREAT US LIKE THIS! AFTER ALL WE DID FOR YOU!”  
  
Vernon kept ranting about how ungrateful he was. How they should have abandoned him. What he would do as soon as he was out of the cell. But all it did was help Harry remember all the things he had buried, and all the things they had done to him. Voldemort just chuckled sinisterly.  
  
“I should thank you,” he said darkly amused, as Vernon finally fell silent and he turned towards the Dursleys, “Harry here didn’t really want condemn you to your death. Not even after remembering what you did to him. But your shouting made him remember exactly how much he hated the three of you!”

“But even now he doesn’t want to be the reason someone died or someone got hurt,” Voldemort continued and he shook his head mock-sadly, “I must say, you’ve raised him well. But wait, _you_ didn’t raise him, now did you? He raised himself.”  
And he shot them a shark-like grin. Harry couldn’t help but wish that the earth could open up and swallow him whole, just so he could escape from this.   
  
“I tire of this,” Voldemort suddenly said, clearly bored, “it’s time to choose.”  
The Dursleys paled drastically as they realised what it meant for them.  
“Y-you wouldn’t let him kill us, w-would you, boy?” Petunia whimpered, “b-besides, w-what would those f-freaks say once they find out about t-this?”  
Harry shook his head and backed away, his eyes wide in indecision.  
  
“You have ten seconds left to choose,” Voldemort said sharply, “so choose: your friends, or your caretakers! The people who actually care for you, or the people who mistreated you, who neglected you and who abused you! Ten, nine…”  
Harry gazed fearfully between the Dark Lord and the Dursleys before he dropped his gaze and bit his lip, wondering if he could ever live with himself after this. Someone, or multiple people, would die and it would be _his_ fault.  
“Five,” he heard Voldemort voice through the haze in his mind, “four…”  
He closed his eyes as he made his choice.  
  
“And one, time’s up,” the Dark Lord said almost cheerfully and Harry opened his eyes and softly stated who he had chosen, fully aware that he didn’t have a choice in the matter and that fighting, complaining or refusing to answer the question – if one could even call it a question – would help.  
“I don’t think they heard you,” Voldemort said gleefully, “speak up, child.”  
“I-I choose my friends,” he said just loudly enough that the Dursleys could hear him before he closed his eyes. He felt defeated and horrified and he didn’t want to see the satisfied, gleeful and victorious look on Voldemort’s face or the horrified and angry looks on his former caretakers faces.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Voldemort couldn’t help but smirk gleefully as he heard the boy’s response, though he had to admit that he had _known_ that the child would choose his friends over the lives of his former caretakers.  
“Very well,” he said softly and he stepped forward and grasped the boy’s chin. Those green eyes – filled with horror, hopelessness, disgust, self-hatred, despair and other emotions which seemed to be waging war inside the boy’s head - snapped open and locked with his red ones.  
  
“I’m going to test _why_ you get hurt when I torture someone so I want you to tell me as soon as you feel something different,” he said, “do you understand?”  
“Bu - ,” his heir started to say but he harshly interrupted him.  
“Do you understand?” he asked forcefully.  
The boy nodded and, as soon as he released his chin, his gaze snapped back down towards the ground.  
  
“Good,” he said satisfied before he flicked his wand and the corridor expanded and a bed – similar to one used in a hospital – appeared, “lay down, I can’t have you fall down and hurt yourself, now can I?”  
The boy looked like he wanted to complain again but a sharp look and a sharp hissed warning from him made him comply and he quickly cast a couple of spells which would monitor the boy’s scar, his pain levels and the horcrux.  
  
He had already some ideas why the child would be hurt by him torturing people and it had something to do with the horcrux.   
  
Before he had found out that the boy now laying on the bed was his heir he had hated him, which in turn had caused the scar to hurt when he was near. Now that he was aware that he was his heir he felt nothing but indifference and slight hope towards the child. This was probably the reason that the scar didn’t hurt when he was in his proximity. But the crux was that he was born, if that was even possible, as a sadist which meant that he _liked_ inflicting pain on others. People would probably label him as a psychopath or sociopath, but he could actually care about others.

_That_ was probably the reason that Harry felt pain when he tortured others. His horcrux – a piece of his soul – wanted to inflict pain upon something he didn’t really care for. Not that he wasn’t _able_ to start antod care for the boy, he just wasn’t ready. Nor was the boy ready to accept _him_. Which meant that the boy’s scar would hurt when _he_ felt gleeful and pleased as he hurt something or someone.  
  
Now all he had to do was to find out if that really was the reason and a solution to the problem. Maybe _Occlumency_ could help?  
  
He pointed his wand at the fat walrus of a man and said, “remember, I want you to tell me as soon as you feel slightly different. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t hurt, I just need to know when it starts to feel different. Do you understand?”  
“Yes,” the boy said grudgingly.  
“Good,” Voldemort said pleased, “ _Crucio_!”  
The man immediately went down and started to scream like a pig being slaughtered.


	21. 20

**Family ties  
  
Chapter 20  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells, inside the memory …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Days went by and before he knew it, it was the evening before Christmas.   
He was once again laying in the bed which had been deemed his, and he was once again looking at the ceiling hoping that the images in front of his eyes would disappear.  
He carefully sat up - mindful of the snakes which were using him as a heater and pillow - and took a quick peek at the time, only to groan as he realised that it was already two am and he still hadn’t been able to fall asleep. Again.  
  
He had spent the last couple of days – more like one day and a couple of hours, the time which had gone by since Voldemort had tortured his _ex_ -caretakers – reading and sleeping. Though he had spent more time reading than sleeping in an attempt to forget about the fact that _he_ was the reason his former caretakers had been tortured and probably killed. And even though they had only been tortured with the Cruciatus curse and he hadn’t actually seen Voldemort kill them, he still felt guilty and horrified as it had been _his_ fault that they were, well _dead_. Probably anyway.  
  
His nightmares – when he actually managed to fall asleep – had been filled with his once family’s faces as they screamed in pain, and their shouts and screams at him that it had been his entire fault. He already knew that it had been his fault but it only made him feel more guilty.  
The faces of his friends as they told him what a coward he was for doing something _Voldemort_ wanted and how he had turned dark before they all turned away from him, abandoning him to the mercies of Voldemort didn’t make him feel any better. Leaving him, once again, alone in a too harsh world.

And he hadn’t turned dark, even though his _grandfather_ was the leader of the dark section. He had even vowed to himself that he would never turn dark. That he would never dish out the pain and suffering like Voldemort enjoyed to do. It would destroy him, he was sure of that.  
  
All in all, he had had a crappy two days and he _still_ didn’t know if Voldemort had found out what he wanted to test. He hoped he did because he was _not_ going to be in the same room as Voldemort – not that he _wanted_ to be in the same room as Voldemort at all – if he was going to torture someone.  
   
Strangely enough, the snakes – who seemed to know how he felt and who, weirdly enough, seemed to dislike seeing him _depressed_ – had tried to comfort him with funny tales about their lives and with gifts, which mostly consisted of dead rats, mice and other small animals. But he could understand their meaning and he was thankful for their efforts.   
  
One of them – a small, green snake he always carried around because he actually liked it, not that he really disliked the others – had even started to call him ‘master’ instead of ‘master’s hatchling’. The small snake was about three feet long with a forest green body, yellow eyes and small lighter green, round marks adorning its body.  
  
Equally weird was that he hadn’t seen hide nor hair – which Voldemort only had if he choose to look like a fifty year old version of Tom Riddle, which he always seemed to do when he spend some time with Harry – of Voldemort since the man had _tested_ some things and that made him feel worse, somehow. He didn’t know why and he was not willing to find out why.  
  
He sighed as he realised that he wouldn’t get anymore sleep and he carefully slit out of the bed – which got him some disgruntled and annoyed hisses from the snakes, which he ignored – before he padded towards the comfortable chair near the fire in the study, hoping that reading would at least keep the memories and the visions his mind had created at bay.  
  
**oOo  
**  
A lot of crashes, shrill hoots and menacing hisses managed to wake him up the next morning. He blinked lazily in confusion – momentarily unaware of the horrors of a couple of days ago – before it all came crashing back and he shuddered slightly and hugged himself as he remembered what he had been forced to do.  
  
****_“:Get back here, bird-prey!:”_ a female hiss sounded before another crash alerted him to the fact that maybe he should check what was going on so he quickly forced the dark and depressing thoughts away before he pried himself away from the chair. He had apparently managed to fall asleep while reading one of the books.

He slowly stretched to get the kinks out and hissed in pleasure as he felt his spine pop back in place as he was _not_ going to tell a snake to stop hunting when he was stiff and sore from sleeping in a chair all night. The last time he had done that he had ended up getting bitten by one of the pythons and he was not willing to try that again.   
  
He carefully made his way over to the bedroom only to stop short as he saw the mess. His covers and pillows were ripped and the feathers that had previously been inside said covers and pillows lay everywhere, the nightstand lay on his side and his trunk had been overthrown by something, probably one of the larger snakes. Besides that, feathers from different owls lay everywhere, though the owls themselves seemed to be still alive, only visibly annoyed by the attacks. The floor was covered by irritated, hissing snakes, and the sky was filled with angry hooting owls which seemed to carry either packages, letters or both.  
  
**_“:What is going on here?:”_** he asked a soon as he had managed to regain his wits.  
**_“:They entered through the hard invisible protection, master,:”_** the snake which he carried around the most said, **_“:one of them smells like master’s prey but the rest smell like bird-prey. Can we eat them?:”_**  
Harry quickly looked up and searched until he spied the white feathers of his owl Hedwig.

**_“:Hedwig!:”_** he quickly called out and held up his arm so she could land on it. He had sent her away as soon as he could so the snakes wouldn’t hurt her and Voldemort wouldn’t use her as bait for his nefarious plots. He immediately checked her to see if she was okay, only to sigh as he noticed that she was unhurt, though she did seem awfully angry if her glare towards the snakes was an indication.

**_“:No, you can’t eat the owls- I mean bird-preys,:”_** Harry told the snakes, **_“:they belong to people who want them back alive. And this one on my arm is Hedwig, my ow- er, bird-prey and I’ll turn the snake who hurts her into a worm! Understood?:”_**

The snakes hissed in annoyance before they bobbed their heads and returned to the warmth of the hearth. One of the snakes, the one which called him master, carefully slithered up his body until it was twined around his arm, near Hedwig. It just looked at her for a couple of seconds before it bobbed its head at her and closed its eyes. Hedwig in return studied it before she deemed it no threat and returned her attention back to him.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Voldemort stared pensively at the package in front of him. His thoughts were a mile away as he tried to come up with a way to get the boy to come with him to a Death Eater meeting without forcing the boy as it wouldn’t do to have a sulking, moping, irritated and depressed heir in front of the Death Eaters as that would appear as if he had grown _soft_. He also didn’t want to give away who the child was and how the little brat felt about the Death Eaters, the war and his side of the war.

He wondered briefly on which side the boy actually was, before he decided that it didn’t matter as _his_ side was now the boy’s side, if he wanted it or not.  
  
He contemplated the idea of promising to hand over Pettigrew in exchange for the boy’s obedience during the meetings. The man had been useless after he had betrayed his best friends’ location – though he had had _some_ use when he resurrected him – but he knew that the boy would just hand him over to the Ministry, which would free the boy’s godfather. After which the man would want to claim guardianship of the boy and which would only lead to the discovery that the boy was related to him, something he just wouldn’t allow.

Suddenly he remembered how the boy had never known about his parents – the real story – until he had turned eleven. He decided, pleased, that he could work with that.

He had _avoided_ the boy after he had forced him to choose between his friends and the Muggles as he didn’t know how to deal with someone who was clearly depressed and who hated himself – at least, that was what the snakes had told him.

While he felt slightly guilty for hurting the boy – something which was completely new for him and which he blamed on the magical promise that he would never hurt the child as long as he was his heir – he was aware that he would do it again if he had to, as he _had_ found a way to keep from hurting the boy when he tortured someone. Well, he knew how to keep the boy from hurting _badly_ when he tortured someone. He knew that the scar would still sting as long as he was indifferent to the child.   
  
He had tried different things while torturing the Muggles. And he had only used the _Cruciatus_ as he was afraid that he would _enjoy_ it too much.

The first thing he had tried was reducing the amount of power he used in the spell. Sadly enough, it hadn’t worked as he still felt pleasure at the pained screams and the scar still hurt.  
The next thing he had tried was to suppress the satisfaction he felt as he tortured someone. Needless to say, _that_ didn’t work either.

In the end – after five more attempts which all failed and after the horse-faced woman had lost her sanity, his heir had passed out and the scar had begun to bleed again – he had decided to try and close the _link_ between the two of them. It had taken him some time and effort but he had managed to close the link completely. When he had checked the monitoring spell which told him the condition of the child while torturing the young pig, he had been happy to see that the child felt only a slight _sting_. Something which the child could easily ignore and which would only cause some slight discomfort.  
  
He gracefully stood from his seat and picked the package up before he made his way towards the door. It was time to deal with his heir and Christmas, the first he would celebrate – suffer, he _hated_ Christmas – with someone since his beloved had died and he had to give his daughter away.  
  
**oOo  
**  
His felt his eyebrow rise as he noticed the mess, the many snakes which were eying the owls and the small stack of gifts – which seemed to mostly consist of candy – the child had already unpacked.  
“What happened here?” He asked.  
**_“:The snakes were trying to eat the owls,:”_** his heir answered distractedly as he unpacked another box of sweets.  
  
He dismissed the child’s words in favour of watching the snowy white owl which was resting on the boy’s shoulder and the small snake which was sleeping around his upper arm.  
“Have you named him yet?” he asked curious.  
**_“:Who?:”_** the boy asked confused and he turned his full attention towards him.  
“The snake, child,” Voldemort told him dryly, “who else?”  
**_“:Why should I name it?:”_** he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.  
“Because he is your familiar,” he answered slowly as if he was talking to a small child.  
**_“:It’s not. Hedwig is my familiar,:”_** the boy protested.  
  
“Hedwig?” Voldemort asked, his eyebrow raised and the boy carefully raised his arm and pointed towards the owl before he started to pet her.  
“Can you talk to her?”  
**_“:She can understand me,:”_** the child pointed out.  
“That is not the same,” Voldemort explained, “a familiar is a creature which can understand you no matter what language you speak and which can understand how you feel and where you are no matter what.”  
  
**_“:Hedwig can do that,:”_** the boy pointed out, ****_“:She found me here_ and _she could understand me even though I was speaking Parseltongue.:”_

“Interesting,” Voldemort muttered, “but she doesn’t share you magic, does she? The snake does. Name it.”  
**_“:Bu -,:”_** the boy protested.  
“Think of it as a pet and name it,” he said through gritted teeth.  
**_“:Fine,:”_** the boy huffed, **_“:I name it Ular.:”_**  
“Ular?” Voldemort asked amused, “do you know what it means?”  
The child just shrugged, **_“:Don’t know, I read it once and I just like the name.:”_**  
  
“Anyway, I came to tell you that we’ll celebrate Christmas together and to get you to gather your gifts and bring them with you,” Voldemort sneered as the boy blinked at him, clearly surprised, “leave the sweets here.”  
The boy nodded and quickly relieved the rest of the owls of their letters and packages while Voldemort moved towards Nagini to ask her about the child’s health, which she answered with ‘withdrawn’ and ‘depressed’.  
  
**oOo  
**  
He watched on as the boy unwrapped a thick book about mythical creatures, a weird but rare plant, more boxes of candy, a two-way mirror and a couple of books which were clearly from the Black library, a box filled with home-made fudge and a green sweater, a couple of books on defence, products which were clearly for either pranks and a pair of completely different socks.   
  
He had brought the boy to the smallest sitting room the Mansion had. It wasn’t decorated for the season – luckily – but the fire was burning merrily and there was hot chocolate, so that had to count for something.  
Besides, the room was _cosy_ enough as it was.  
  
He took another sip of his tea – he preferred it over hot chocolate - as he wondered how to give him his own gift. He knew that he didn’t have to give the boy something – he even doubted if the boy had anything for him – but he had felt it appropriate.  
  
****_“:What the hell?:”_ the boy’s words interrupted his thoughts and he turned back towards his heir with a short: “Language.”  
Only to stop short as he noticed the pink and golden necklace, which was clearly meant for a girl, the child’s expression of utter disgust and the fact that it seemed to be the last present, though he still had the letters to read.

“Might I inquire as to why you’re were given a necklace meant for a girl?” he asked him smoothly but the boy ignored him as he rummaged through the box in search of a note. He repeated the question but the boy didn’t seem to hear him as he muttered something under his breath.

He cleared his throat loudly, completely irritated by the child’s behaviour, and the boy finally looked up, a note in his hand.  
“What does it say?” he asked curious.  
**_“:Nothing,:”_** the boy sounded annoyed.

“What did I tell you about lying?” Voldemort asked, his eyebrow raised, “now, either you hand me that note or you’ll tell me what it says, your choice.”  
**_“:Fine, one of my friends thinks I like his sister and he wants us together, badly, so he sent me the necklace so I could give it to her,:”_** the boy grumbled.  
“And I take it you _don’t_ like this girl?” he asked amused, his irritation forgotten. The boy just nodded and a silence fell as he threw it, disgusted, against the wall.  
  
“Anyway, on to another subject,” Voldemort said after a couple of seconds, “first of all, I’ve something for you.”  
He took the small package from its place on the ground next to him and placed it in front of the child before he flicked his wand and turned it back to its normal size. His heir looked at him, surprise clear in his eyes. He raised his eyebrow and the boy flushed, much to the amusement of the small snake, Ular, wrapped around his arm. He carefully unwrapped it to show the books Bellatrix had managed to get her hands on. They weren’t dark, but they weren’t light either. What most people didn’t know was that the Black family had a lot of books about _grey_ magic.  
The boy looked up at him, clearly unsure as to what to do, before his face suddenly brightened and he placed the books next to his seat.

**_“:I’ve got something for you too,:”_** he said nervously and he bit his lip slightly as he picked up a neatly wrapped gift and handed it to him.  
Voldemort looked curiously at the boy as he hadn’t expected him to bring something for him.  
He turned his attention back to the gift and studied it. It was a novelty to get a gift from someone who wasn’t out to get something in return. At least, he doubted that the boy had an alternative motif for giving him a gift.  
  
A soft, impatient sound made him snap out of his thoughts and he carefully removed the wrapping paper, only to gasp as he saw his old diary – now with hole – the fang of a basilisk and two old books written in what seemed to be Gaelic and old Norse.  
“Where did you get this?” he demanded.  
**_“:Er,”_** the boy squirmed, **_“:the books are from the Black library, I managed to salvage them from the clean-up. And the fang and the diary. Well-:”_**  
“Spit it out,” he hissed.

**_“:Did someone inform you of what happened almost three year ago?:”_** the boy asked him tentatively.  
“I can’t say they have,” he hissed – which was a lie - and he almost slipped in Parseltongue in his anger, “why don’t you inform me?”  
**_“:Well, Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy that is, gave the diary to Ginny and. Er, well she openedtheChamberandIkilledtheBasilisk,:”_** the boy said rushed.  
**_“:What?:”_** he asked dangerously.

The boy took a deep breath and repeated, slowly, **_“:she opened the Chamber of Secrets and I went after her to safe her. In the end I killed the Basilisk and stabbed the diary.:”  
_**  
****_“:You did what?:”_ he asked, carefully keeping a leash on his temper. In the end he failed and the windows, the mugs and small glass and stone trinkets shattered.

The boy curled up in fear as his magic snapped and crackled about him but he ignored him as he tried to get a grip on his temper and magic – and his sanity. He hoped that this _incident_ didn’t make him loose his sanity like it would have just weeks ago.

It took him a couple of minutes, but finally he managed to calm himself enough to say, “I already knew about the opening of the Chamber. Lucius, however, failed to mention that the diary was destroyed and the Basilisk killed.”  
**_“:Er,:”_** it was clear that the boy didn’t know how to react to that.  
“Why did you give this to me?” Voldemort asked emotionlessly.  
****_“:I though you might want them back,:”_ the child mumbled.  
  
He rose from his chair and moved towards exit.  
“Stay here,” he ordered the child, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  
  
There was something he had to do. Hopefully the shields would hold.


	22. 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: some mild torture.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the recognisable characters.

**Family Ties**  
  
Chapter 21  
  
_Letters, books ‘…’_  
Spells, inside the memory …  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
How dare he keep important information from him. How dare he _lie_ to him! He was his Lord, his master. The chair nearby exploded in sharp pieces of wood and one nicked him, but he easily ignored the wound. The room was already destroyed and he was already bleeding from multiple small wounds caused by other similar explosion. Besides it was easy to repair and the wounds were easy to heal.  
But really. how _dare_ he tell him that the diary was still safe! Hadn’t he warned him to keep it safe or _else_?  
  
He pressed his wand to the ring on his finger and hissed, ****_“:Lucius Malfoy.:”_  
All he had to do now, was wait. Wait until that lying coward showed his face!  
  
He started to pace in an attempt to get his thoughts on the problem at hand. His first Horcrux, his _diary_ , had been destroyed and he hadn’t known. Shouldn’t he have felt it? It was his _soul_ after all.  
He wasn’t worried about the fact that it was gone, as it wasn’t _completely_ gone. However, he _was_ worried about the fact that he hadn’t felt its destruction. How many of his Horcruxes had already been destroyed without him knowing? Had that been the only one yet?  
  
A soft knock on the door forced him out of his thoughts and he quickly healed himself, it wouldn’t do to appear weak in front of his followers, now would it? He didn’t bother with the room. It hadn’t been the first time he had destroyed it, after all. Besides, it would be a good warning to the liar to _not_ trigger his temper.  
  
“Enter,” he called out as he sat down regally in one of the chairs that had miraculously survived his anger and Lucius Malfoy entered and bowed his head down in respect towards him.  
“You called for me, My Lord?” he asked as soon he looked up again.  
“Yes, I did. _Crucio_ ,” Voldemort told him coldly. The normally proud and strong man immediately fell down thanks to the angry power behind the Cruciatus curse and it didn’t take long before he was screaming in pain.  
  
After almost ten minutes – and after Lucius had lost conscious – he cancelled the curse and woke him by casting an A _guamenti_ on him. Normally he would have cast a _Rennervate,_ but he was too angry with the man to act even _slightly_ nice.  
The Malfoy lord groaned but remained on the floor like a common animal.  
  
“Do you know why I cast the Cruciatus Curse on you?” Voldemort hissed angrily in borderline English.  
“I-I d-don’t k-know, M-My L-Lord,” Lucius managed to stammer as he moved slightly to look him in the eye.

“Do tell me: what happened to my diary I told you to keep safe?” he asked sweetly, though the anger was still evident in his tone and his eyes glowed a bright red.  
“I-it’s s-safe in m-my m-manor, M-My L-Lord,” the man told him before he wheezed in pain as he was hit with a mild pain curse.

**_“:Lies!:”_** Voldemort hissed angrily, “you lie! My heir handed it back to me with a giant hole in it, courtesy of a Basilisk’s fang. Besides that, he told me the entire story of what happened. Including how _you_ gave it to the _Weasley_ chit!”

“H-he l-lies, M-My L-Lord,” the man gasped. Voldemort cast a bone-breaker at Lucius’ left arm and he smiled a dark and satisfied smile as the man screamed in pain and clawed at his arm when multiple bones broke – and some bones broke in multiple places – thanks to the power behind the spell.  
“No, he didn’t lie,” Voldemort said calmly as he leaned back in his chair, “the diary he handed me was the one I handed to _you_ to keep safe. The ambient magic around it was the same and no one can _copy_ ambient magic. Besides that, my initials are written on it in Parseltongue and I sincerely doubt that the child knows how to write it.”  
  
He leaned forward, “the question is: why didn’t you tell me? And how are you going to _rectify_ this little _incident_ , hmm?”  
“I-I-,” he stammered.  
“ _Crucio_!” Voldemort cast annoyed and the man’s stammers turned to screams as he writhed on the floor.

“You? You what?” he asked cruelly as he cancelled the curse.  
“I-I-” the proud Malfoy lord didn’t seem to know what to answer.  
“Luckily for you, I _do_ know how to make up for it,” Voldemort said and he laughed cruelly, “not that _that_ is going to help you now.”  
The man shuddered but was wise enough to keep his mouth closed.  
  
“Now, the first question: why?” Voldemort asked coolly, “am I not your lord?”  
“Y-yes,” Lucius stammered in a combination of pain and fear, “I-I w-wanted to c-cleanse t-the s-school of m-mudbloods!”  
“By destroying the diary,” Voldemort said darkly and he shot another mild pain curse at the man.

“N-NO!” he exclaimed, “n-no, y-you h-had b-been d-defeated f-for t-ten years, w-we d-didn’t t-think-”  
“No, _that_ is clear,” Voldemort growled, “you doubted that I would ever come back, even though I _had_ told you that I had found a way to become immortal. What little faith you have in me.”  
Lucius had paled and he knew that his words had hit home.  
  
“Thankfully, your _disloyalty_ can be rectified,” Voldemort said coolly, “do you want that, Lucius?”  
The blonde bobbed his head slightly – the only movement he seemed to be able to make on the moment – in an attempt to agree.  
“Good,” Voldemort said satisfied before he smiled cruelly, “I’ll need two litre of your son’s blood. And I _will_ know if it’s not your son’s blood, remember that. Oh and Lucius, you better hope that the boy is still a virgin, or I’ll need _all_ his blood! And know that I won’t hesitate to take it.”

The man paled even further and he had doubted if that was even possible.  
“Besides that, you are no longer in charge of the mission I had given you a week ago. In fact, you are not even on the team anymore,” Voldemort continued, “do you understand all I’ve said?”  
“Y-yes, M-My L-Lord,” Lucius stammered, his head bowed in defeat.  
  
“Good, I’ll need the blood in a week’s time,” Voldemort told him, “make sure I have it in six days!”  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
He apparated away the moment the Dark Lord released him from his presence. His Lord had been so incredibly angry with him and he hurt all over, even if he had only been in his presence for half an hour. His arm was broken, and he could help but wonder in how many places the bones had been broken as the level of power behind the curse had been too high to break it just in one place. All his nerves felt like they were on fire, he was shivering with the aftereffects of the Cruciatus and – thanks to the pain curses – he could barely move his right leg and left shoulder. All in all, he was a mess.  
  
He groaned as the jolt of landing on his feet shot through him and he collapsed in his own foyer.  
  
He knew that he was to blame for the fact that he had been tortured, he should have told his Lord about what had really happened with the diary when he had the opportunity.  
But he had been afraid that the man would have gone after his son or his wife, just like he did now.  
  
If that blasted boy had kept his mouth shut about his second year the Dark Lord wouldn’t have known! How had he managed to get that blasted diary back, anyway? He had locked it away as soon as possible after the boy had handed it back to him in an attempt to free that blasted house elf!  
  
He gritted his teeth as he remembered the boy, the Dark Lord’s heir. Why did the Dark Lord have to take the Potter boy as his heir? The boy was as light as they came, irritatingly loyal to Dumbledore and average in everything but flying.  
Besides, it was the boy’s fault that the Dark Lord had pulled him from that mission. It had been a very important mission too and he had been the leader. It had shown the other Death Eaters how much their Lord had valued him and how important he was!  
And now someone else would lead it. It was all that blasted boy’s fault!  
  
His Draco was much better in every way. Why didn’t the Dark Lord take _him_ as his heir?  
Maybe he had to show his Lord that his son was better than that blasted Potter boy? How did his master even get his hands on the boy? Maybe Severus would know? He would ask the man the next time he would see him.  
  
He gritted his teeth together again as he felt the last of his strength wane.  
He called for one of the house elves and told it to get Narcissa. She would know how to get him to a bed and she would know how to heal him.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry stared after the Dark Lord as he stormed away, the diary and the fang lay forgotten next to the man’s chair.  
**_“:I don’t think he liked it,:”_** Harry said softly and he felt strangely disappointed.  
**_“:He is not angry with you,:”_** Ular said soothingly and he slithered up his arm so he could look at him, **_“:and he did like the things you gave him, I could smell it. Besides, he was- I don’t know what you call it but it is positive. He liked the fact that you gave him those scribbles on skin.:”_**  
Harry hummed softly in reply, thankful of the small snake.  
****_“:Now, why don’t you open the scribbles which came with the bird-prey?:”_ Ural suggested and Harry did as he proposed.  
  
The first two letters were from Hermione and Ron, asking where he was and if he was alright. He read them quickly before he dropped them on the floor.  
The next letters were from various members of the Order written on various days after the end of term which all stated that they hoped that he was okay before they begged him to come to the headquarter. They had all been signed with their names and he wondered if he should burn them before Voldemort returned as they contained some of the names he had forgotten. In the end, he threw them in the fire.  
  
The next couple of letters were from Dumbledore and he wasn’t sure what to do about those. Sure he trusted the man - slightly anyway - but he wouldn’t put it past the man to stuff a portkey into a letter to make sure he would stay with the Dursleys.

The idea of going back to _that_ place made his mind jump back to the memories and feelings he had managed to bury for the last couple of hours. He felt his eyes tear up, for the first time, as he thought of the reactions of his friends once they found out that _he_ had been the reason his ex-caretakers were dead. He dropped the unopened letters on the floor and buried his head in his hands as more tears started to run down his cheeks. The gifts they had given him, even if some of them were as impersonal as candy, only managed to make him feel even worse.  
  
He didn’t feel how Ural made his way up towards his ear but he did hear the soothing things the small snake whispered and he finally stopped crying after a couple of long minutes.  
**_“:I think you should wait until master’s hatcher returns before you read those scribbles,:”_** the snake pointed out. Harry shuddered as he tried to will the memories and emotions away but in the end he managed and he picked up the next letter, which was from Sirius and Remus.  
  
He was about to start reading it when he felt a small twinge in his scar. He raised his hand and rubbed it slightly, wondering if that was supposed to happen and if Voldemort hadn’t found a solution after all – as he had feared.  
The twinging didn’t become worse so he started on his letter.  
  
_‘Heey pup,_  
We will not ask you were you are, nor will we ask you to return to those muggles, as we know that you didn’t like it there. Besides, all the others have already asked that.  
We are going to ask if you’re alright and if you need something, anything _!_  
So, as we said: how are you? We are alright, just slightly disappointed that we couldn’t spent time with you this short holiday. Maybe you can come and visit Diagon Alley? That is pretty neutral…  
Anyway: did you get nice gifts? Did you like our books?  
About the mirror: if you ever want to talk to either of us just call our name when you hold it. One of us should appear and we can talk.  
Just call us soon, alright?  
Enjoy the rest of your stay, where ever you are!  
Moony and Padfoot’  
  
Harry sobbed slightly as he finished their letter, glad that they didn’t ask where he was. He had told them why he didn’t want to stay with the Dursleys – though he had never told them the details and he had omitted the bad stuff – and he was thankful that they supported that he was staying somewhere else. Not that he would have chosen this place as a place to stay if he had had a choice… but everywhere was better than staying with the Dursleys.  
  
He returned to their letter and wondered if they knew about the Dursleys. He wondered if _anyone_ had found out about the Dursleys. Surely Dumbledore knew something. He had had Order members spy on him all summer and Miss Figg was close by…  
  
He decided that he could always just ask them. After all, they _had_ sent him some kind of communication mirror, didn’t they.  
He quickly searched his pile of gifts until he found it and called: **_“:Sirius Black.:”_**  
He just hoped that the mirror understood Parseltongue.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
His mirror shone up and he dashed towards it.  
“Moony!” He shouted down before he picked up the mirror only to come face to face with his godson. The boy looked good. It was clear that he was looked after and his clothes seemed new and not the cast-offs he had worn before. But he looked sad and tired and his eyes missed their usual lively sparkle.

“Pup!” He exclaimed happily, “how are you? Are you alright! You look tired, do you get enough sleep?”  
“Give him a rest Padfoot,” Moony said amused, “he can’t answer of you keep firing questions at him.”  
  
“Oh, right,” Sirius answered sheepishly and he chuckled slightly. A soft hissing sound made his attention snap back at the mirror only to notice a small piece of paper.  
_‘I can’t speak on the moment, so I’ll have to talk to you like this.’_ He read.  
“Why can’t you speak?” Remus asked worried.

Harry quickly scribbled something down.  
_‘Long story. And I don’t really want to tell you guys through a mirror…’_  
“We understand,” Moony said soothingly, “but you are alright?”

Harry nodded before he scribbled something else on the paper.  
_‘You aren’t mad at me for not going to the Dursleys?’_  
“Of course not!” Sirius exclaimed, “I don’t know them personally but Lily described her sister as someone who absolutely detested magic. Hell, she even compared her to my _mother_ after she had met her!”

“Language,” Remus said, “and I agree with Padfoot, even though he should watch his language. I’ve met your aunt and she wasn’t pleasant to me. Nor was that boy she called her boyfriend nice. So I can see why you didn’t want to spend your Christmas with them.”  
  
“What I do want to know,” Sirius said suddenly serious, “is why you didn’t come to us? We would have loved to take you in for Christmas. We had even asked Dumbledore if we could.”  
Harry blinked away the tears that had started to appear in his eyes as he scribbled. Remus and Sirius shared glances but decided to not mention it.  
_‘It’s a part of that long story.’_  
“But you would have come,” Moony said. Harry nodded.  
  
“That’s good,” Sirius said, “now, what did you get for Christmas?”  
The next couple of minutes was spent on the gifts Harry had gotten – they had a good laugh over the necklace, though Harry kept pouting at that one.  
  
It was during the time that Sirius was describing what had happened with Ron when the twins had decided to test something on him that they heard something from Harry’s side of the mirror. They watched as his head shot up. And they noticed how he paled and how his eyes grew wide with panic and fear. He quickly wrote a goodbye before the mirror turned back to its normal reflecting surface.  
  
“He will be alright, won’t he,” Sirius asked worried, “because that didn’t sound too good!”  
“I hope so,” Remus sighed, “I just hope that he will tell us that story of his soon.”  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
He grabbed the child’s face.  
**_“:Who were you talking to?:”_** he hissed angrily, **_“:what did you tell them?:”_**  
The boy’s eyes were still wide but he kept silent and he squeezed harder.  
**_“:Who?:”_** he hissed angrily.  
**_“:My godfather,:”_** the boy finally spat, ****_“:and I only told him and Moony that I was fine and what I got for Christmas. That was all!:”_  
  
His eyes showed that he wasn’t lying so he released the child’s face.  
He was debating if he should order the child to stop contacting them but decided against it. For one, it would make the old coot suspicious. The second point was that it would make the boy annoyed with him and he couldn’t have that.

“Next time, tell me that you want to call them,” Voldemort told him warningly, ignoring the name he didn’t recognize, “did they give you that two-way mirror?”  
The boy nodded.  
  
“Now, I want to make a deal with you,” he told him, “I’m aware that no one has ever taken you to see your parents’ graves. I’m willing to go with you. In exchange, I want you to behave during the upcoming Death Eater meeting.”  
**_“:What do you mean with ‘behave’?:”_** the boy asked suspicious, not denying that he had never seen his parents’ graves.

“You’ll stand at the right side of my chair, you’ll stay silent, you’ll stand straight and you’ll keep your emotions under control no matter what happens,” Voldemort said, “but most of all, you’ll not act like you did the first night you were here. No pouting, no sulking and don’t act rude by laughing at others. Can you do that?”  
**_“:If I do that, you’ll take me to my parents’ graves?:”_** the child asked, probably just to make sure.

“Yes,” Voldemort said, “do we have a deal?”  
The boy nodded.  
  
**oOo**  
  
He had ordered the boy to redress in the clothes he had a house elf lay out for him. While he had made sure that the clothing would be in the Slytherin colours, he had also made sure that he would wear a large cloak with a hood that would easily conceal the boy’s face. He couldn’t have one of his weak-willed or weak-minded minions find out who the child really was and have them tell someone else or have someone else see it in their minds, after all.  
  
****_“:Master’s hatcher,:”_ a soft voice called and he turned his attention downwards, only to notice the boy’s familiar. The boy had named it ‘snake’ though he doubted that the child actually _knew_ what Ural meant.  
He just raised his eyebrow at the snake.

**_“:Master was leaking salt water again,:”_** it told him. He frowned. He had known that the boy had been depressed about the fact that he had to choose between his friends and his former caretakers but he couldn’t have that.  
**_“:Any ideas as to how to get him to stop?:”_** he finally asked the creature. As the boy’s familiar he should know how the boy’s mind worked.  
**_“:You two-legged have this saying: ‘Time heals everything’,:”_** the snake told him, **_“:why don’t you do something with this ‘time’?:”_**  
  
He contemplated the idea the snake had given him. Time was not something you could change. You could go back in time for a couple of hours, sure, but that was about it.  
The comment ‘Time heals all wounds’ was more interesting however. Time would soften things that had happened in the past. It would wear down the aspects of memories. Was it possible to wear a recent memory down by artificial means?

He would have to research it as it wouldn’t do to send the boy back into Dumbledore’s clutches while the child was visibly depressed and mentally unstable.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
He felt nervous. He knew that he had promised to behave - which he hoped wouldn’t be _that_ hard – but he had no clue as to what he could expect.  
There was a possibility that people would be tortured and didn’t that idea bring back such _happy_ memories!  
But he had promised to be there and behave so he would.  
  
He wanted to move, badly. The clothing was making his skin itch and the stares from the already present Death Eaters made him want to shift but he had promised and he really wanted to see his parents’ graves!  
  
He stood, as promised, at the right side of the Dark Lord’s chair – more like throne but that was beside the point – which was placed on a raised platform. The hood of the cloak concealed his face so only his mouth was visible and he was concentrating as hard as he could to make sure that his face stayed as impassive as possible.  
  
The last Death Eaters entered quickly and kneeled down.  
The Dark Lord spent a couple of seconds just watching them before he rose from his throne and took a couple of steps forward.

“Good evening, my faithful,” he started and he spread his arms as if to embrace them all, “it is good to see all of you in such great health.”  
Harry wanted to scoff. Like the man cared for that.  
  
“First of all, I want to compliment those who have worked as hard as they could to get some of my most faithful out of Azkaban,” Voldemort continued, “it’s heart-warming to see such loyalty in our cause.”

It was more likely that he was glad that he had people that would willingly jump in front of the Killing Curse for him. And _their_ cause? Really? Harry felt like laughing but knew that that would be as well received as him scoffing so he kept his face as impassive as he could – which started to become rather hard.  
  
“Second of all, in the last week I noticed we had a spy,” he told them, “someone who spied on us for Dumbledore. I regret to tell you all that Severus Snape has been executed because he wasn’t as loyal to our cause as we all expected. He has spied on us since my return and he told Dumbledore everything he knew. Thanks to him many of our plans were thwarted and I acted upon this.”

Angry murmurs sounded from the Death Eaters but no one stepped forward to comment. Harry wondered if they were angry with Snape for spying on them or with Voldemort for killing him.  
  
 “The reason why I called you all together was because I wish to introduce someone,” Voldemort said softly and the Death Eaters leaned forwards, “for those who hadn’t noticed yet, there is someone at my right side.”

Voldemort gestured towards him and all the Death Eaters turned their attention towards him, until Voldemort pulled the attention back towards himself.  
“This is my heir,” he told them, “I won’t tell you his name to keep him safe from our enemies, nor will I tell you why I chose him. Just know that he is a descendant of the Slytherin line.”

“My Lord, may I ask how you found him?” a voice sounded and a woman Harry recognized as Bellatrix Lestrange stepped forward.  
“You may ask,” Voldemort said smoothly, “but I’ll not indulge you by answering your question.”  
  
“Now, to my last point,” Voldemort said, “Teal, bring the prisoner.”  
One of the Death Eaters rose from his place and left the hall, only to return a couple of minutes later with a witch. She was pale and she seemed shaken but her clean hair and clothes showed that she had been captured recently.  
“My faithful, I want you to meet Emmeline Vance,” Voldemort said and he spread his arms, “a member of the Order of the Phoenix and our enemy.”


	23. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: torture

**Family Ties  
  
Chapter 22  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells, inside the memory …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
The man yanked her towards the _thing_ on the dais roughly and she walked as proudly as she could but with her head bowed, aware that every single Death Eater in the hall was looking at her.   
She had heard how _he_ had introduced her and she was painfully aware of the fact that she probably wouldn’t make it out of this hall alive.  
  
The dais appeared in her narrowed eye field and the man stopped dragging her forward and loosened his grip on her.  
“You can go, Teal,” the sibilant voice of the Darkest Lord of the century sounded and the grip disappeared entirely.  
  
The rustling of clothes sounded before the sound of soft steps reached her ears.   
“Would you look at her,” the Dark Lord mocked cruelly, “this brave warrior of the Order, afraid to look up.”

Laughter rang from around her but she kept her head bowed.  
“Maybe this is the way they show you respect, My Lord,” a female, crazed voice sounded from the Death Eaters and her head snapped up. She immediately recoiled as she came face to face with You-Know-Who himself.  
  
He studied her for a couple of seconds – in which an oppressive silence could be noticed – before he moved back to his throne and sat down regally in it.  
  
She finally noticed the small figure next to his throne and studied him briefly. There wasn’t much to see as he or she was completely covered by the heavy cloak but she estimated him or her to be a teenager at best. Maybe the child of one of the higher Death Eaters?  
She wondered if he or she was important as she had the feeling that You-Know-Who wouldn’t allow just anyone to stand next to him.  
  
Suddenly she was hit by a mild pain curse and she quickly stifled the scream that wanted to erupt from her throat as she turned her attention back towards the monster on the throne. She berated herself for forgetting about him.  
  
“I see you have noticed my heir. How very _unfortunate_ ,” he said softly, “anyway, now that I have your attention firmly where it belongs: what are the plans of the Order, hm?”  
She said nothing but kept her attention on him.  
“Pity,” he muttered almost carelessly, “oh well, _Crucio_!”  
  
She went down as soon as the curse hit her. She had been _hit_ by the curse before but it had never been so painful. She bit the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from screaming as she twitched on the ground and clawed at her own skin.  
The blood started to seep from between her lips as her teeth pierced the inside of her cheeks but she knew that it was either marring the inside of her mouth or screaming. And she wasn’t willing to give him _that_ satisfaction.  
  
The curse stopped as suddenly as it had started and she was left on the ground, twitching, shuddering, panting and bleeding from her mouth.  
  
“Are you willing to answer my question now?” he asked her silkily. She stayed stubbornly silent and wasn’t surprised when she was once again hit with the curse.  
This time she managed to ground her teeth together and she almost heard them crack as the pain intensified but she managed to stay silent.  
  
He lifted the curse again after what felt like a lifetime before he asked her the same question. This time she responded by spitting in his direction – not that it came very far as she didn’t have the strength to raise herself up – and he shot a quick, cutting curse at her. A large, diagonal cut appeared on her abdomen and the blood started to leak from the large wound immediately. She made a loud, pained noise before she managed to silence herself.  
Pleased sounds came from the crowd of Death Eaters.  
  
“It will take at least an hour before you die of that wound,” Voldemort drawled, “but I’m willing to let someone heal you if you answer my question.”  
She tried to ignore him as she attempted to keep the wound closed with shaking hands. She knew that he was right but she wasn’t willing to admit it, nor was she willing to sell the people inside the Order out.

The Cruciatus Curse hit her again and this time she didn’t even attempt to stop screaming. She hurt all-over – even more then she already did – and the wound became bigger with every move she made.  
  
She started to see black spots in front of her eyes and she was almost glad for them, as they meant that she was about to get a reprieve of the pain.  
  
The last thing she noticed before she blacked out was the small figure next to the throne, whom appeared to have his or her attention somewhere else entirely.  
  
**oOoOoOo  
**  
Voldemort studied the now unconscious witch laying at his feet.   
He had lied to her, of course. In the state that she had been in she wouldn’t have lived longer than fifteen minutes.   
Now, she wouldn’t even _hope_ to survive five.  
  
“Lucius, Rodolphus, make sure she doesn’t die, but don’t heal her beyond that,” he ordered sharply as a plan formed in his mind, “then drop her somewhere where only one of the Order will find her. I don’t want the Ministry to know about my return.”  
  
The two mentioned bowed down low before they hurried forward and quickly cast a spell that stopped the bleeding of the wound on the witch’s stomach.  
  
With a last bow towards him and his heir they both grabbed the witch and disappeared with a loud crack. Normally there were wards to make sure that no one – except the holder of the wards, meaning him - could apparate of disapparate in his home, but he made a handful of exceptions. Mainly, when he called for his Death Eaters, when he send them on a mission or when he dismissed them. In those cases he temporarily lowered the wards.  
  
“The rest: dismissed!” Voldemort barked.  
The rest of the Death Eaters bowed down low before him before they all either disappeared with a sharp crack or walked towards the room which held the portkeys.   
  
All of them except his heir. He turned towards him and motioned for the boy to lower the hood of his cape.  
The boy did as he was ordered but his motions were shaky and slow and when his face was visible it was clear that the boy hadn’t enjoyed his latest _activity_.  
He was ghostly pale, his eyes were wide and spooked and his lips were trembling. No, he hadn’t enjoyed it at all.  
  
“Go to your room and redress in something comfortable,” he ordered him sharply as soon as those eyes met his, “then come to my study. I want to discuss your schedule for the rest of the vacation before we leave for your parents’ graves.”  
  
The boy nodded - visibly glad that he could leave the room and maybe his presence – before he quietly left.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
He felt like throwing up or crying or screaming or all of the mentioned. Something that would make the horrible feeling inside him go away.   
  
While he had seen how Snape had been tortured he hadn’t _really_ been there. Well, not during the really gory part as he _had_ been there when Voldemort had _started_ torturing the man. But that had been mild.  
He had been in Voldemort’s mind during the really disgusting, cruel, painful and inhuman part and he _had_ felt his delight. But he hadn’t been there _both mentally and physically_!   
  
_That_ could have been described as a really, awful nightmare. _This_ had been real. He had smelled the blood. He had heard the screams with his own ears. He had seen the delight on the faces of the Death Eaters.  
  
He had been aware – slightly at least – that people would be tortured, of course. And that there was a slight possibility that there would be some blood and some gore.   
He had never expected to see someone he personally knew, someone he actually _liked_ , tortured so cruelly in front of him.  
  
He hiccupped slightly as his mind shot back to _those_ memories. He remembered the shrieks of his so-called family and their pain filled and hate filled shrieks. He remembered. And that was bad enough.  
  
**oOoOoOo  
**  
It had been half an hour since he had ordered the boy to redress and come to his study.   
While he was aware that the boy could get lost, he was also aware that the boy’s familiar would be with him and that said familiar _knew_ the way to his study.  
  
So something else was happening, and he suspected that he knew _exactly_ what made the boy late.  
  
He rose from the chair behind his desk and quickly made his way towards the child’s room. As soon as he reached it he threw that door open in an attempt to get the boy’s attention but it failed, as he had expected.  
  
The boy stood in the middle of the room, still dressed in the cloak and the formal clothing he had made him wear.   
His face was still pale but he had managed to acquire a green tint around his mouth. His eyes were unfocused and his hands were clenched in tight fists. Blood was leaking from said fists and his heir was shaking on his legs.  
  
He knew that he had to act. This wasn’t the first time the memories of the torture and death of his relatives had reappeared but it was the first time that they hit him this hard.  
He had taken the snake’s words and searched for a solution – not that he had had a lot of time – but he hadn’t managed to find a single thing. Yet.  
  
He could, however, temporarily _block_ the memories. Bury them into the boy’s mind so he couldn’t reach them, couldn’t even _remember_ them.   
While that wasn’t mentally healthy, it had to do for the moment until he _had_ managed to find a better solution.  
  
He quickly entered his own mind, searched for the connection in his mind that linked him to the boy and searched it until he reached his heir’s mind.  
  
**oOo**  
  
The first thing he noticed was the complete chaos inside the child’s mind. Something which reflected the boy’s state of mind. Literally.  
  
“Harry,” he let his mind call out, hoping that that would gain the boy’s attention, “Harry!”  
  
A mind was not something that could be read, that much was _common_ knowledge. But contrary to popular believe, neither was it possible to ‘walk around’ someone’s mind. You couldn’t ‘open a book and read it’.   
People had to navigate the many structures of a person’s mind to search for the memories they wanted to ‘see’ – or bury.  And to do that they had to find the ‘manifest’ of the owner’s mind.  
  
He carefully reached out with his magic, searching for the boy. He was intimately aware that it was very, _very_ dangerous to just reach out with magic in someone else mind.  
The other’s magic would fight back if there was too much ‘foreign’ magic and the person penetrating the mind would be left either imprisoned in the mind or return to their own body, insane.  
  
It took him a while but he finally managed to find the manifestation of his heir. It was small and huddled together to make itself as small as possible.   
  
The thing about manifestations was that they represented the live of the person. His had been just as small and huddled together when he had been a child. But that had been before he had found out that he was _special_. After that, his had turned into the way he had looked when he was twenty. Young, charismatic and powerful.  
When he had started to split his soul his manifestation had turned into a black something filled with holes. Now, it was still the black something, but he knew how to repair it.  
  
He carefully wrapped a bit of his magic around the huddled figure, hoping that the magic would seem familiar enough – the boy was his horcrux after all, so he should be familiar with his magic – to make it feel safe.  
It did, and the figure stretched out slightly under the magic.  
It was still small, but now he could see that it represented a small child that couldn’t be older than six.  
  
“It will be all right,” he softly crooned as he moved closer until he could touch it. He carefully lowered himself in a crouch before he reached for the black hair and started to gently pet it in an attempt to get to the memories.   
  
“Now, why don’t you show me those memories,” he softly cooed, “I’ll make them go away. But you will have to show me.”  
  
The figure looked at him, the green eyes wide and fearful. But there was also hope and a slight trust.  
He just stared back until the boy nodded and lifted his hand to point at something.  
  
He looked up and watched as the mentioned memories ‘appeared’.  
“I’ll make them go away,” he muttered softly as he carefully took note of them, his hand still carding through the dark locks, “but it will feel strange.”  
  
He removed his hand from the boy and stood - making sure that he was between the boy and the memories – before he started to chant the Latin spell that would temporarily block the memories. It wasn’t a hard piece of magic to learn, but like the _Obliviate_ it was hard to master and control as it had to be done _exactly_ right. Otherwise the child would start to remember again.  
  
After ten minutes – not that he was aware of the time, he just knew that the whole progress would take about ten minutes – he was done.  
The first thing he noticed was the change in the atmosphere of the child’s mind. It had become slightly lighter and less chaotic.  
  
He turned back to the small child.  
“I must go now,” he murmured softly, “but know that I _will_ keep you safe!”


	24. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: the aftermath of torture

**Family Ties  
  
Chapter 23  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells, inside the memory …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
“-fatally wounded-…-make it-…!”   
Urgent voices sounded as they neared the Hospital Wing and she immediately made her way towards the supply closet to retrieve the standard potions that were nearly always used, like the blood-replenish potion and a strong pain reliever.

After a bit of hesitation she also added a Skelegrow, an obscure potion that would regrow skin and a potion that would make sure that the patient’s magic wouldn’t fight the treatment. Something which was prone to happen with torture victims and she had no doubt that _this_ one would be a torture victim.  
  
She carefully placed the potions by the bed closest to the door before she quickly made a motion with her wand which unlocked the door of the Hospital Wing. This was followed up by some quick spells to close the curtains around the occupied beds to make sure that her patients got their privacy and to make sure that _they_ couldn’t see her newest patient.  
  
The door of the Wing was thrown open and members of the Order entered hurriedly, a stretcher in the middle of their small group.  
“Quickly, she needs help!” the black one at the very front of the group  – whom she recognized as Kingsley Shacklebolt – almost demanded and he shooed the rest of the group away so she could see the victim.  
  
She immediately sprung in action as soon as she saw the mutilated body. The first thing she did was move the body to the bed she had reserved for her newest patient just seconds ago before she turned back to the small group.  
“You, floo Albus. You, get me wet towels and a bowl filled with clean water. You, help him!” she commanded to the closest persons, “the rest: leave. Out!”  
  
The members of the small group did as they were told and she turned quickly back to the poor woman.  
There was a large, hideous wound on her stomach which seemed to be fresh but which wasn’t bleeding. The middle of the wound – the part on her abdomen - was straight as if cut with a very sharp knife while the sides of the wound were ragged as if they had been ripped open forcibly. Which was probably what had happened.   
  
A quick scan showed that a spell had stopped the bleeding and it was clear that she should be thankful for the spell as the wound on her stomach _was_ the worst wound the woman had.  
The rest of the woman’s injuries seemed to be self-inflicted – she could see the marks of where the woman had scratches herself and some bite wounds in and around her mouth - and would heal in an instant.  
  
Another quick spell showed that the woman – the spell told that this was Emmeline Vance, one of the members of the Order – had been hit once by a dark pain curse and multiple times by the Cruciatus Curse. The last one seemed to have caused severe damage to the poor woman’s nerve ends and Pomfrey was quite sure that the nerves were too damaged to be healed completely.  
  
There was also some residue of a cutting curse and the spell that had stopped the bleeding. Both seemed to be extremely dark in nature.  
  
She carefully gave Emmeline the potion that would make sure that her magic wouldn’t fight her own magic before she cautiously removed the spell that stopped the bleeding.  
As she had expected, the wound started to bleed quite profoundly immediately.  
  
She quickly cast the strongest healing charm at the wound, only to try again as only the ragged edges closed, leaving thick, very noticeable scar tissue behind. Her second, and even third and fourth, attempt didn’t work and the straight, almost knife-made cut kept bleeding.  
  
In the end, she just cast a couple of high level spells that should – in normal circumstances – stop the bleeding the moment it hit the wound until the wound just oozed a small amount of blood.  
  
She carefully washed the wound with water before she summoned bandages. She equally carefully covered the wound before she wrapped the rest around the woman’s stomach and abdomen.  
 As soon as she was done she cast a small ward on the bandages so she would be warned as soon as the blood started to leak through the bandages or as soon as the blood started to dry.  
  
**oOo**  
  
“How is she?” Albus asked clearly worried as soon as she appeared in his office.  
“Alive, for now” she answered tiredly. It had taken her almost twenty minutes to just partially heal that one wound before she could finally turn towards the rest.  
Emmeline’s nerves had been too damaged to repair completely, as she had expected and feared. The senses in her fingers, toes, nose and ears might never return but the woman would live, and it wasn’t even sure yet _if_ she would make it. The wound on her stomach was that grievous.  
  
After she had finally healed everything she could heal – which had taken her almost two hours – she had been called up to Dumbledore’s office.  
The small group that had brought the woman to the hospital wing had been there – and Pomfrey was sure that they had already told Albus how they had stumbled upon poor Emmeline – though they had been joined by some of the other staff members and members of the Weasley family.  
  
“That spell that stopped the bleeding when they found her,” Albus started pensively after a couple of minutes, “it was dark in nature, wasn’t it?”  
She nodded in agreement.

“And she was dropped at the Burrow,” he continued slowly as if they weren’t there, “it appears as if they wanted us to find her – not that I’m complaining as it appears that she is still alive – but why? This doesn’t sound like something Tom would do.”

“Maybe she has information You-Know-Who wants us to know?” Minerva inserted pensively.  
“Yes, but the question is: _what_ is it that Tom wants us to know?” Albus said with a sigh, “and the only one who knows the answer to that question has been tortured _and_ mortally wounded to gain this information and we don’t even know _if_ she will make it.”  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
The mood was dark and depressed as they landed in a shadowed corner of the graveyard.   
Harry immediately sank to his knees – or he would have if Voldemort hadn’t tightened his grip on his shoulder – and heaved a couple of times until he started to feel slightly better.  
  
“First time you side-apparated?” Voldemort asked his amused. Harry just glared at him weakly, too busy with making sure that the world stayed still and upright and his food stayed in his stomach; where it belonged.

“If you mean to ask if this is the first time that someone forced me through a straw, then yes this is the first time,” Harry grumbled annoyed, though he was glad that he was able to speak English again. His grandfather had decided that it was too suspicious for two people – one of them the Boy-Who-Lived and the other a handsome, but unknown male (though Dumbledore might recognize him) in his fifties – to speak Parseltongue when they were visiting the grave of Lily and James Potter so he had temporarily removed the ring.  
  
“Shame,” Voldemort said airily, “remind me to teach you how to apparate. It _is_ quite useful.”  
Harry just grumbled as he ripped his shoulder out of the man’s grip and started to search for the graves of his parents.  
  
It had taken him a while before he found them as the graveyard was larger than he had expected – though he did see some names he recognized like the Dumbledores and the Abbotts – and he had lost Voldemort a while back by the grave of one Igna… Igno-something.  
  
And now he stood in front of his parents’ graves, not quite sure what he should think or what he should feel.

For a long time he had believed the lies the Dursleys told him about his parents: that his mother was a whore and his father a good-for-nothing drunk. And he had hated them for leaving him behind as they killed themselves in a car crash. But thinking about the Dursleys made him feel like he was missing something. Like something bad had happened to them, something he once knew about but which he seemed to have forgotten. So he banished any thought about them.

But as he grew older – and as the Dursleys started to tell more and more lies about both them and him – he started to believe the opposite: that they had been good people. Though he had never doubted the fact that they had died in a car crash.  
  
And then he had met Hagrid and he learned that his parents had been, no _were_ , heroes and that they had sacrificed themselves so he could live. And he started to long to be like them.  
  
But that changed very quickly as people always compared him to them. He was a great flyer? He had to have gotten that from his father. He had a temper? So like his mother. His eyes: his mother’s. His hair and the way he looked: his father. He was skilled in something? His parents had had the same skills. Even the fact that he was good in DADA had to have come from his father as he had been an auror, even though the man had been little beyond average at the subject itself.

He had started to wish someone would see him as himself, something even Ron and Hermione – his two best friends at the time – seemed to be incapable of.  
  
And then he had _met_ someone who saw him as himself: his worst enemy and the killer of his parents. The man had been nothing but a shadow on the back of the head of a teacher at the time but he had been the first person to see him as himself: Just Harry.  
And even though the man – which had been debatable at the time – had tried to kill him Harry had been thankful.  
  
Years went by and Voldemort – or Tom Riddle – remained the only person to see him as Just Harry.  
Until he grew closer to Neville, who knew what it was like to be compared to his parents and found lacking. After that he met Luna, the third person who saw him as himself.  
  
And now he was unsure what to feel. He didn’t quite miss his parents, as he had never known them. And he didn’t really mourn them, as he had mourned their deaths years ago when he started to believe that they were good people.  
The only thing he felt was sadness at the fact that he _hadn’t_ known them. And even ‘sadness’ was not the right word.  
  
“It’s always strange to try to understand what one feels when one comes face to face for the first time with something one has already buried,” Voldemort’s mussing voice came softly from behind him, “I considered my daughter dead the day I gave her away to that woman. It was odd to find out that it was I who killed her.”  
Harry just ignored his words as he stared at their graves.  
  
“I always wished that they would come for me when I was younger,” Harry said pensively, momentarily unaware of who exactly stood behind him as he lost himself in his thoughts, “that the Dursleys had lied about their deaths too and that they were still alive but in coma or something similar. That they would just take me away-”  
“But they never came,” Voldemort finished his words knowingly.  
  
He nodded until he caught up with the reality and he quickly closed himself off.  
“Let’s go,” Voldemort said softly but Harry shook his head.  
“I would like to stay here for a while,” he said softly.  
“We can come back when it is warmer and when there isn’t a chance that you freeze to death,” Voldemort told him sternly, “I promised to keep you safe, and that includes making sure you _don’t_ freeze to death.”  
  
Harry just nodded, aware that the man spoke the truth even though he couldn’t remember _when_ he had promised it.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
The train ride back to Hogwarts was almost as boring as the ride to the station had been. The only difference was that he wasn’t nervous or unsure about the fact that he was going to live with the guy who had murdered his parents.  
  
Some things had changed between them.  
While Harry still didn’t like the fact that the man had killed his parents and had tortured and killed the Dursleys he did see him in a different light.   
After all, the man had promised that he would keep him safe even though he didn’t have to. Harry was still trying to figure out when he had said it, as he _was_ sure that the man _had_ promised it, he just couldn’t remember when and why.

He also still wondered how Voldemort had made him forget about the death of the Dursleys and why he didn’t feel bad about it anymore, which had made him feel bad because he didn’t feel bad. That was, until both Voldemort and Ular had reassured him that _that_ was just as normal as the fact that he no longer mourned his parents.  
  
Those two instances hadn’t been the only times Voldemort had been almost _good_ to him. Voldemort had spent the rest of the vacation helping him with potions even though Harry kept having the same problems again and again. The man kept calm and explained it time and again until he _did_ understand what he did wrong or why certain ingredients were necessary.  
  
He had also started him on Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, stating that he would need them.  
Besides that, he had helped him with the rest of his homework – not that he really needed it – and taught him how to handle Umbridge – which he _did_ need even though he could handle the woman somewhat.  
  
But – most important of all – he had been _patient_ with him, even though he had asked the same, stupid questions time and again.  
  
And now he had five assignments, thanks to the man. The first one was to get an all-access pass to the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library – without the help of his friends. The second one was to find everything about Horcruxes – once again without the help of his friends, he was even forbidden to mention the word to them.  
The third one was to make sure that all his marks were an E or above. Or else. Though Voldemort hadn’t told him what the ‘or else’ was.  
The fourth one was to make sure that no one, at least no one who didn’t already knew, found out where he had stayed  or with whom. Not that he knew _where_ he had stayed.  
The last one was to make sure that he stayed out of trouble and that he wrote Voldemort at least twice a week. Or when he either managed to get himself in trouble or when he had questions.  
  
He looked down at his now ring-less finger and mussed that the vacation had been different that he had expected.  
  
**oOo  
**  
The train entered the Hogsmeade station smoothly and Harry quickly followed the rest of the students out of the train and towards the carriages that would pull them towards Hogwarts.  
  
Sadly enough, he had to share one with Malfoy, Parkinson and Greengrass.  
The Slytherins – and he wondered briefly if he counted as one due to him being the heir – sneered at him but ignored him for the biggest part of the ride.  
  
Their conversation mostly consisted of what they had done during the vacation and Harry quickly stopped paying attention in favour of studying the three Slytherins. Parkinson appeared as pug-faced, arrogant and in love with Malfoy as ever but it was clear to him that she seemed to be worried about the blonde next to her. The blonde himself looked paler than the last time he had seen him – during the forced dinner at Voldemort’s manor – and he had dark circles underneath his eyes. Besides that, his motions were tired and clumsy and his voice sounded weaker than normally.  
Greengrass appeared as cold and distant as always and spent more time reading some kind of magazine than talking about her vacation.  
  
Harry wondered briefly what could have happened to the blonde – and he hoped that whatever it was meant that he would leave him alone – but in the end, he decided that he didn’t really care and he turned back to watch the ancient castle that housed the school.  
  
**oOo  
**  
He calmly entered the Great Hall – hungry and eager to see his friends – and quickly made his way towards the Gryffindor table, only to be stopped by Hermione, who shouted as soon as she saw him: “Harry James Potter, where have you been!”  
A silence fell and the entire hall turned to watch him.   
  
He wondered – almost morbidly – if having the attention of the entire school focused on him counted as ‘trouble’ before he was _requested_ to follow both the ancient Headmaster and his deputy out of the Hall.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
“My Lord,” Lucius said as soon as he entered the room and he kneeled down in front of him.   
Voldemort had called him towards him as soon as he had dropped his heir of and now he was eager to begin.

“Luciusss, do you have the blood?” he asked him, a threatening hiss made it clear that the blonde better hand him the blood, or risk being killed. Or in this case, have his son killed.  
“Of course, My Lord,” the blonde said smoothly and he presented him with two crystal flasks filled with the ruby substance.  
  
Voldemort accepted them with a nod and drew his wand. He lazily cast an identification spell at the blood to make sure that it was the right amount, from the person he had demanded it from – meaning from the blonde’s son – and of the right quality. In this case it meant that the blood was suitable. The spell also served to tell him if the spoilt brat was, in fact, still a virgin.  
Luckily for the blonde in front of him the result came back positive.  
  
Satisfied he placed the two flasks in a small, cushioned box next to him before he turned back to the now smugly smirking blonde.  
“Good, now leave!” he ordered the blonde annoyed and the Malfoy Lord rose and bowed down before he quickly left, seemingly aware of the Dark Lord’s irritation with him.  
  
Voldemort rose from where he was seated and turned towards the snake resting on the decorated and warmed pillow on the other side of his chair.  
**_“:Nagini, I require your assistance,:”_** he hissed quietly to his familiar, ****_“:but I must warn you: it may be painful. For both of us.:”_  
The snake just hissed and wound her way towards him and up his body in a clear sign that she would help him in any way she could.   
  
Together they left the hall.


	25. Chapter 24

**Family Ties**  
  
Chapter 24  
  
_Letters, books ‘…’_  
Spells, inside the memory …  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
The silence during the walk towards the headmaster’s office – which was way too long in his opinion – was oppressive and Harry could almost physically feel the heavy looks the Head of Gryffindor shot him.

The silence became even more uncomfortable when they rode the stairs behind the gargoyle protecting the headmaster’s office and it took all his willpower to make sure that he didn’t squirm.  
He almost sighed in relieve as they finally entered the room and he was told to take a seat in front of the large, ancient desk.  
  
McGonagall choose to stand next to the door and Dumbledore seated himself in his usual spot behind the desk before he laced his fingers together. He rested his head on his entangled hands and studied Harry with sharp, blue eyes.  
“Do you know how concerned everyone has been over your disappearance?” he finally asked softly after a couple of minutes, which had been filled with the same oppressive silence as before, “I must insist that you tell us where you have been!”  
  
Harry remained silent, not really sure what to answer. Voldemort hadn’t given him an excuse as – apparently – it was better to make something up on the spot then panic because he couldn’t remember a tiny little detail of a lie he had to learn by heart.  
  
So now he had to make something up. He could, of course, tell him that he had stayed with family but he knew that he would get the questions of ‘who’ and ‘where’. As he had promised that he wouldn’t tell anyone, he was aware that _that_ particular option was out.  
  
Then there was the option of telling Dumbledore that he had stayed with a friend. The problem was that both Ron and Hermione knew that he didn’t have friends in the muggle world and he had spent most of his time with them in the past couple of years so they were also aware who he considered his friends in the wizarding world. So that was out too.  
Besides, both Neville and Luna had stayed at Hogwarts so he couldn’t ask them to lie for him either – not that he particularly liked that option.  
  
He could always tell the man that it wasn’t his business, which it probably wasn’t. But this _was_ Dumbledore and the man had always tried to help him. Most of the time anyway. And even though Harry knew that the man would let him die if it would keep a lot of people safe, he knew the man would be haunted by his death. At least, he hoped so.

The very last option he had was to stay silent and wait until someone else broke the silence.  
  
In the end, he decided on the last option and he remained silent under Dumbledore’s searching gaze.  
  
“You know how unsafe it is now that Voldemort is back, Harry,” Dumbledore continued as soon as he noticed that Harry wouldn’t answer and Harry felt bad as he heard the concern in the man’s voice, “and I know that you know that he is after you. You _must_ tell me so I can make sure that you are safe!”  
“I was safe from Voldemort and his followers,” Harry finally stated softly, “they couldn’t harm me.”  
  
Dumbledore sighed and leaned back, “do you know what happened to you aunt, uncle and cousin?”  
Harry averted his gaze to the floor before he nodded, “I saw.”  
“How?” McGonagall gasped but it was Dumbledore that answered, “your scar.”  
Harry just made a motion that neither confirmed it or denied it.  
“You are aware that what happened to them can happen to you too, right,” Dumbledore stated softly, “we must know! You are important to a lot of people.”  
  
Harry just stayed silent and after a couple of minutes Dumbledore sighed.  
“We’ll have to make arrangements for this summer,” he said as he shook his head slightly, “I’m sorry for your loss.”  
Harry just shrugged. While he hadn’t liked the fact that he had to make _that_ decision and while he hadn’t wanted them to die – and certainly not in _that_ way – he didn’t miss them and he didn’t really consider it a ‘loss’.  
Besides, he already knew that he would stay with Voldemort during the summer. It wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter.  
  
Another silence fell, only to be broken by Dumbledore.  
“And Severus?” Dumbledore asked after a couple of seconds, “do you happen to know what happened to professor Snape?”  
Harry shook his head as he had only seen the very start of the torturing and Voldemort hadn’t deemed it important enough to tell him. He hadn’t asked either but he could guess what had happened to the man.  
  
“Well, off to dinner with you!” Dumbledore said as soon as he realized that Harry wouldn’t answer any of his questions and Harry – recognizing when someone dismissed him – stood and left.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Albus watched Harry leave before he sighed and slumped down in his chair, seemingly old and defeated.

“Where do you think he has been?” Minerva asked softly as she sat down in the chair Harry had occupied just seconds ago.  
“I don’t know,” Albus said wearily, “but it seems that wherever he was, it was better than at the Dursleys.”

Minerva shot him an unreadable look – though she didn’t give her opinion as she was aware that he already _knew_ her opinion on the late Dursleys – before she asked, “how so?”  
“While he seems pale and appears to have a slightly haunted look in his eyes he looks healthy and almost happy,” Albus stated, “he looks the way I hoped he would look in his first year when he first came here. Minus the haunted look of course.”  
  
“So you will not force him to tell where he has stayed?” Minerva asked curiously, “you’ll let him stay there for the summer?”  
“No,” Albus said with a deep sigh, “it is our duty to make sure that the boy is safe. We owe it to Lily and James. This means that we _must_ know where he has stayed and where he will stay for the summer. I believe Grimmauld Place would be the best place for him to stay. And it will keep Sirius happy.”  
  
“Will it still be used for Order meetings?” Minerva asked stiffly.  
“Yes,” Albus answered, “it is the safest place after Hogwarts and Hogwarts would be far too obvious.”  
  
Minerva opened her mouth to say something when the flames in the hearth turned green and Poppy’s head appeared.  
“Albus,” she almost shouted, “Emmeline is awake!”  
  
**oOo**  
  
“How are you, my dear,” Albus asked to the woman lying on the bed.  
“Sore,” Emmeline answered wryly, her voice barely above whisper and weak, “my stomach hurts terrible and  I seem to have lost the feeling in my fingers, toes, tip of my nose and ears and part of my arms and legs.”  
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Albus told her, “and I’m sorry I have to ask this but can you tell me what happened?”  
  
“Not a problem,” She said before she coughed quietly, “I was captured by some Death Eaters while looking for Harry Potter. They stunned me – at least, I think that they stunned me – because I woke up in a dungeon. My wand had been removed and while I could move around, there was a shackle a little more than a meter long around my ankle that tied me to the wall. It might have been hours later – but it could have been longer, I don’t know – that a Death Eater came. He told me that I was the main _subject_ of a meeting before he released me, took me out of my cell and pulled me out of the dungeons into a gigantic hallway and towards a couple of large, French doors. Once there, he cast a _Petrificus Totalus_ on me before he entered through said doors. It was at least half an hour later that he returned.”  
  
She coughed a little harder this time and grappled for the glass of water next to her bed. The water was slightly purple due to some potion. Albus was faster and handed it to her. She quickly drained it before she coughed again. Her voice had started to become hoarse and it was clear that her throat had started to hurt somewhere during her account of what had happened.

“Do you think you can continue?” he asked her worried.  
She nodded, “he cancelled the spell before he dragged me towards the doors and through them – at which point I managed to pull myself away from his grip. The room – probable a large ballroom or an former formal dining room – was filled with Death Eaters and You-Know-Who was seated on a throne-like chair on a dais at the very front of the room. There stood someone next to him, a teen.”  
  
Her voice had become even softer and had started to become even more hoarse and more coughs had interrupted her story. All in all, it had become very hard to understand her and she seemed to have noticed it because she urgently said as loud as she could, “Albus, You-Know-who has an heir!”  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
“There is something different,” Luna told him as soon as he seated himself across of her at the Ravenclaw table – which had become normal for them weeks before the winter break – the next morning, “you look different.”

“How so?” Harry asked her curious as he put some toast on his plate.  
“You look more healthy, more happy,” she told him seriously, “and your voice has changed slightly.”  
“I do?” Harry asked surprised, “it has?”

“Yes, you do and yes, it has. It’s strange. _He_ is actually better for you than those Muggles,” Neville answered from behind them and he moved to seat himself next to Harry, “and about you voice: it is- I can’t tell what exactly changed but it isn’t a bad change, just different. It kinda suits you. Why? Did something happen that made it change?”

“Different language,” Harry said with a shrug and a look that told them that he would tell them later.  
A comfortable silence fell as they continued to eat before Luna interrupted with a: “I believe the lessons start soon. Shall we go?”  
The others nodded and together they left the Hall before they split up to their respective lessons.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
The ritual room was the only room in the entire manor which wasn’t cleaned by magic. It was also the cleanest room as both magic, dirt and dust – which somehow managed to collect magic out of the very air – would be hazardous for any ritual he would want to execute.  
And in this case it would be double as dangerous as it didn’t just involve his body but his very soul.  
  
The room itself was large and mostly bare. The floor and walls were made out of one single slab of onyx – as it was one of the few stones that didn’t absorb magic or had its own magic that could disrupt the ritual – and the door could be hidden away behind a single loose piece of the same stone.  
A small table, which was also made out of onyx and which was meant as a surface to place the necessary ingredients for the rituals, was placed next to the door. A large onyx chest was meant for items like clothing and wands, all of which were items that contained either their own magic or which had collected magic from their surrounding or the air.

The only setback from using onyx was the fact that it was black which caused the room to be pitch black when one didn’t lit the candles.  
  
He carefully placed the small box with the vials of blood and the book, which he had collected from the library, down on the table before he let Nagini slither down his arms and on the cold ground. She wasn’t really needed but she was there to keep him stable and to make sure that he would be able to get out once he was finished with the ritual.  
  
He lit the handmade candles and sealed the room with the slab of stone immediately after to make sure that no magic from the outside could enter. There would always be some magic – it was inevitable – but a small amount of magic wouldn’t be harmful. Otherwise it would have been too dangerous to bring Nagini _or_ the book.  
  
He disrobed until he was as naked as the day he was born before he placed all the items he had on him in the chest and closed it.  
****  
He opened the book on the right page and checked if he had everything he needed. Of course he already had checked two times before he entered the room but it wouldn’t do to find out that he had forgotten something in the library when it was too late.  
  
The ritual itself wasn’t that hard. It was really just a necromancer ritual to summon a soul or a part of a soul.  
Normally necromancy was a skill you had to be born with and you could only be born with it if both your parents had at least one chromosome with the skill on it – and even then it was rare to be born a necromancer.

Needless to say, he hadn’t been born as a necromancer.  
Luckily, some rituals could be used by people who hadn’t been born with the skill.  
It also needed nothing more than some blood to draw the necessary runes – Norse runes luckily – and some blood to sacrifice to the summoned soul – or part thereof.  
  
It was recommended that one used the blood of a close family member. Sons, daughters or parents were preferred but grandchildren or cousins would do the trick too.  
But as it had to be as fresh as possible and as he had promised that he wouldn’t hurt his heir – and taking two litres of blood in one single day did count as ‘hurt’ in his books as it would weaken the boy terribly – he would have to do with the only alternative available.  
  
His child’s blood contained the blood of a Black due to his godfather – one had to give a small amount of blood to a child to become a godfather – and his grandmother. He had the blood of his heir in his veins so he could use a Black. There were only a couple of Blacks left: Narcissa Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, Andromeda Tonks and Sirius Black.

It was considered rude to ask the blood of a lady so the first two options were out – even though Bellatrix didn’t really count as a lady and would have given her blood to him without a second thought. And – as he had promised his heir that he wouldn’t hurt the man – so was Black.

He could use Tonks of course but that meant that he had to find her and he knew that she was behind some really strong wards. So that meant that it would take too long for him to find her.  
That left him with the family members of the Blacks and, luckily for him, he had a Malfoy who wanted to be back in his good graces. ****  
  
He opened the first vial of blood and started to draw the runes in the way the book mentioned. The problem with this particular ritual was that if he made a mistake – even a small one – the soul he summoned would be able to consume him. Even if it was just a shard of his own soul.  
  
It took him ridiculously long – he didn’t even know how long as he had no way to check the time – before he was finally done with the ritual circle. He checked it three times before he was sure that he had made no mistakes and before he was satisfied with the result.  
  
All he had to do now, was chant and hope that he summoned forth the part of his soul his heir had sent to wherever it was souls go. Maybe he could ask the part of his soul later?  
  
**oOo**  
  
The first thing Voldemort noticed when he woke up was that he felt _different_.  
Of course he felt sore, tired, drained, cold and his head hurt like he had been hit by something big – likely a group of dragons or something similar – but he had at least expected that as no ritual left one feeling chipper and energetic right after it had taken place.  
He slowly opened his eyes only to groan as he noticed how dark it was. Apparently the candles had melted away some time ago.  
  
He groaned again as he tried to lift himself of the ground only to collapse again. He rested his cheek against the cold floor and decided that laying there was currently comfortable enough to get some of his strength back.  
  
**oOo**  
  
The second time he woke up he felt slightly better. Still different, but he was less sore and the pain in his head had subsided slightly.  
It was still dark – not that he expected anything else – and he was still cold, drained and tired but he felt at least capable of getting to his rooms to get some rest.  
  
He shakily managed to sit up before he rose on unstable feet. He took some very shaky steps towards the entrance – which he only managed to find thanks to Nagini’s hissed instructions – and pushed against the door. He hoped that he had enough strength left to push the heavy stone slab away. Thanks to one of the many rituals he had done in his youth he should be far stronger than a normal human being. But he was aware that when he was this tired, his strength would have waned considerably.  
  
It took him what felt like hours but he finally managed to push the stone away and as quick as he could he exited the ritual room. He didn’t care that he was still naked.  
  
He thanked his forefathers who had built the manor that the ritual room was near his own rooms as he quickly – or as quick as he could in his conditions – made his way towards his bedchambers.  
  
**oOo**  
  
The first thing he did when he woke up for the third time was to check if everything had happened as it should have happened. He still felt different, lighter, more free. But he wasn’t sore anymore, his headache had subsided completely and, while he was still tired – he no longer felt drained or cold.  
  
His spell showed that he had the largest part of his soul back – which meant that the ritual had been a success – and he felt more stable than he had in years.  
Besides that, he noticed almost immediately that he had physically changed. He no longer looked snakelike. In fact, he looked very similar to how he appeared when he had used the potion. The only difference were the slit, red eyes – which were odd as it should have been impossible to have eyes that colour and shape, even for wizards – the skin that was still too pale and the fact that he was far too thin to be healthy.  
  
All in all, the ritual had been a success.  
  
And now all he had to decide which horcrux he would absorb next. ****  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
It was a couple of days later that Harry started to notice small changes in the people around him.  
  
The first change was Ginny. She was around far more often and would immediately attach herself to his arm the moment she saw him. She didn’t even care where they were or who saw it.  
It was annoying and Harry shook her of as soon as she attached herself to him but she always giggled when he did that and just attached herself to him again.

Besides that, she would always talk about how she wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him, which clothes she would wear and how cute a couple they would make.  
No matter what he said or did, she just couldn’t take a hint – or get one.  
In the end he just took the Marauder Map with him and made sure to avoid her.  
  
The second change was the way Malfoy had started to act around him. He had stopped baiting him personally but every time they would bump against each other in the hallways he would sneer and – if they were present – he would jeer at, taunt and call pretty cruel names at his friends.  
But that wasn’t the only change. In classes he would make snide remarks at his work or the way he acted. He had even gone so far as to lie to teachers to get Harry into trouble.

All in all, Harry wondered what had changed and he had decided to ask Voldemort, hoping that he would know. Or that he could ask Lucius what the other boy’s problem was. Not that he liked doing it that way, but Malfoy’s word had started to make both Neville and Luna miserable and the teachers wouldn’t listen.  
  
The third change were Ron and Hermione. After he had returned from the Christmas holidays they had treated him the way they used to treat him before they got together. Hermione had started to scold him when she believed that he was slacking. Not that he was slacking, he liked going to Hogwarts thank-you-very-much! Ron on the other hand tried to get him to play chess or some other game with him.

During meals they would insert themselves in their conversations or they would start entire new conversations. Mostly about the upcoming holidays, the amount of homework or something along those lines.

Besides that, they would sit next him in lessons like they used to do. Or at least, they tried as Harry made sure that Neville would always sit right next to him.  
He was happy that they tried to involve him but sometimes they irritated him. In the couple of months they had barely spoken he had changed and while he had missed them, he liked the way things had turned out. Even though he had to admit that he was still getting used to the fact that _Voldemort_ was his grandfather.  
  
The fourth change was Umbridge. Before the break she had barely mentioned him. Oh she gave him some compliments because of his ‘good work’ but that was it. After the break she gushed about him and the work he handed in. The first time it had happened he had been shocked but now, now he just used it to his own advantage. Though, he had to admit that he was curious about the abrupt change.

He still didn’t like her but he had to admit that – by using the things Voldemort had taught him – she was _tolerable_.  
That, and she gave him full access to the Restricted Section of the library after he had mentioned something about creatures and not being able to find a thing in the main library or by using his normal source.  
  
The last change was the fact that they had a new potions teacher. The man – Slughorn – was different than what he and most of the students had expected.  
From what he had seen the man didn’t care about your House. No he cared about either your name, your famous family members, a certain title one had or how well one did in certain subjects.

All in all, he reminded him slightly of a very large and very fat spider that sat in the middle of his web.  
But so far no one had complained about his teaching methods, so Harry was actually looking forward to his first potion lesson as he was beyond curious about the man.  



	26. Chapter 25

**Family Ties**  
  
Chapter 25  
  
_Letters, books ‘…’_  
Spells, inside the memory …  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Albus sighed as he rested his head on his entwined hands. Things had changed and it weren’t exactly good changes.  
The worst thing was that he couldn’t say what the changes were or when things _had_ started to change. The only thing he knew, was that they had something to do with his old pupil, the now Dark Lord Voldemort.  
  
He had been such a brilliant boy, so smart, so handsome and so charismatic, but oh so hate filled and so dangerous. He had never trusted him, he respected him – how could he not respect one so powerful and smart? – but he hadn’t trusted him. And that might have been his first mistake. The boy had been just eleven when he has started to distrust him and he had never given him a chance.  
  
It had been years since he had told Dippet that Riddle had been too young when he had first asked to become the DADA teacher. He was still wondering what would have happened if he had made sure the boy _had_ been given the job. Would he have turned into the cruel, heartless Dark Lord he was now? Or would he have mellowed over time, enjoyed the job of a teacher?  
He would never know.  
  
The boy – now man – had always been unpredictable, at least, he had been until he had started to make his horcruxes after which he had descended into madness. That had been unfortunate for them.

Tom had managed to unleash Slytherin’s monster without him knowing until it was far too late and a muggleborn had been killed. He had managed to blame _someone_ _else_ for the aforementioned death while _he_ had thought that person to be safe. And he had managed to make his first horcrux right under his nose without him finding out.

Oh, he had always kept a watch on him and he had found out about the horcruxes eventually – almost 40 years after he had made his first one to be exact – but by then the once charming, handsome and genius boy had turned into a mad, ugly but still genius freak of nature.  
  
But even that had changed. Somewhere, somehow, Tom had changed this year. And he was, once again, left behind to guess the how and the why of the changes and the man’s plans.

The man was once again beginning to become unpredictable which meant that a part of the madness had disappeared. The fact that some new rules and regulations were deceivingly pro-wizard and anti-muggle and that there had been some successful raids on important but previously unknown light wizards that had worked in the government _and_ were member of the Order of the Phoenix showed him that much.  
He could come up with different reasons but, up until now, none of them seemed logical.  
  
His first idea was that Tom had finally figured out that immortality wasn’t as fun and rewarding as he might have thought. It was illogically though because the madness the horcruxes would have created wouldn’t have let him consider the idea of immortality or mortality. It only caused him to obsess about one single thing at the time. Sadly enough, that thing had been Harry – and the prophecy – for the last couple of years.  
  
So that left him with idea number two: Tom felt remorse for what he had done and the soul pieces were starting to return to him.  
This sounded just as illogical, as he was convinced that Tom didn’t feel emotions like love, remorse, guilt or any other possibly positive emotion.  
  
Option three was that Tom had somehow managed to find an alternative to regain the lost parts of his soul. But that was just as illogical as the first option as it would need sanity and focus to research something, let alone something as complicated and difficult as the human soul.  
  
So that left him with his latest and newest possibility. Somehow someone was grounding Tom enough to keep the madness away. That possibility had only come after he had heard about Tom’s heir.  
But who was this heir and what was his relation to Tom. Not that he was sure that it was a _he_ , it was just the most logical of the two genders. What _did_ the heir even mean to Tom?  
The idea that it was his son – or grandson – was simply preposterous. Tom had been as asexual as they came when he had been in school and he doubted that _that_ had changed after he had graduated.  
  
So that left two options open.  
One, it was one of his followers’ children – Draco Malfoy came to mind – or two, he had somehow managed to convince Harry that his side was the right side of the war. After all, Harry would make a great addition to the dark side and he was a Parselmouth to boot.  
He didn’t even want – nor need – to consider the second one. The chance that Harry would willingly follow the murderer of his parents was small, very, _very_ small.  
  
And that thought turned his mind toward Harry.  
He had known that there was no love lost between the Dursleys and the child. He had been aware that they had a strange dislike for magic. But he had hoped, prayed to every deity he knew even, that they would at least raise him with care as he had known that love would be too much to ask. But no such thing.

The boy who had stepped through the doors of the Great Hall had been too small and too thin. His cloths had been shabby and too large and his glasses had been broken one too many time. Though the worst thing had been the closed off, defensive and weary expression the child had worn.  
All in all, everything showed that the boy had been neglected, abused even.  
  
And that had hurt him more than he would like to admit. It had also scared him because it reminded him a bit too much of another dark haired boy that had been neglected and abused. And _he_ had grown up to become a Dark Lord.

But Harry had been kind, sweet and brave, so very brave.  
It had made him feel bad when he was forced to send him back to the neglectful environment he knew the Dursleys’ household to be. But there hadn't been a safer place and he was sure that he could convince the boy that it was better to be abused than to be dead.  
  
And now that sweet boy had to kill a man that had at _least_ fifty years of experience over him and that was known for his intellect, his cunning, his ruthlessness and his brilliant mind. A man that was said to fear no one but one old man: he himself.  
  
He was aware that Tom had never feared him. Tom was far more powerful and had far more knowledge and he had always known it. But he _did_ admit that he had always wondered why the man hadn’t attacked Hogwarts.  
He had enough knowledge over both wards, dark magic and probably even light magic to simply destroy the ancient wards with just a flick of his wand, but he never had.  
  
He sincerely doubted that it had something to do with the man’s respect for him, as he was quite sure that he didn’t even respect him, or his love for Hogwarts. He also doubted that the man would’ve let the world believe that he was afraid of one single ancient wizard if he had been in his right mind.  
  
Albus sighed again as he felt a headache appear. Tom had always been a Riddle, in every way, shape and meaning of the word. And even after all these years – the years in which the man had been mad clearly didn’t count – he still didn’t know what to expect of the genius boy turned man.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry and Neville entered the new potion room together. The new room was located on the first floor instead of in the dungeons and it was much more easily reachable. They were both relieved that Snape wasn’t the potions teacher anymore and both were beyond curious about the new potion teacher.  
  
The first thing they noticed was that the room was large, brightly lid, airy and open. It meant that there was enough space for at least the double amount of cauldrons then needed, that the smoke of the potions wouldn’t hinder the sight of the students and that the students could easily read the instructions on the large school board.

There were enormous cabinets along the four walls, only the door and the space where the school board hung weren’t occupied by the cabinets. Large posters showing different, boiling potions decorated the large doors of the cabinets.  
  
The second thing they noticed was the large, clearly heavy, wooden desk that stood in front of the classroom next to the board – and in front of one of the large cabinets. Behind the desk was an equally large, leather chair that showed signs of age and use.  
  
They seated themselves in the middle of the classroom, only to be joined by Hermione and Ron a couple of seconds later.  
  
“Let’s hope this teacher’s better than the old bat!” Ron muttered as he slumped in his chair.  
“Ron,” Hermione hissed, “show some respect!”  
“He is dead,” Ron grumbled, “not like he’s our teacher anymore.”  
“Show some respect for the dead!” Hermione almost growled, “it’s rude to show disrespect for the dead!”  
“Is not like he can hear me!” Ron exclaimed.  
“That’s the point!” Hermione almost shrieked, “the dead can’t defend themselves. So show some respect!”  
  
Harry and Neville shared glances before they both rolled their eyes, already used to the couples’ odd fights.  
Ron and Hermione kept bickering and Harry wondered for the umpteenth time since the beginning of the new term how the two managed to stay a couple.  
Meanwhile, the other students slowly entered the classroom until everyone who should be present was present and still the teacher hadn’t shown himself.  
  
A soft click sounded some five minutes after the lesson should have begun from the general direction of the classroom door and Harry and some of the other students, including Neville, moved slightly so he could see the entrance. Only to stop short as he saw the man that had entered.

The man was old, nearly bald, incredibly short – he was barely five feet tall – and enormously fat. His stomach was the first thing one would notice and the small, normally elegant buttons on his old-fashioned waistcoat threatened to burst off if he breathed in too much air.

The next thing one would notice was the shrewd look in the gooseberry coloured eyes that shot from student to student to study them and for all intent and purposes to judge their worth. Those eyes were sharp and immediately dismissed some of the students – including Ron, who was still bickering with his girlfriend and who had yet to notice the man.

The man’s clothing were old-fashioned and the small amount of hair he had left and his walrus moustache – and didn’t that bring back such _happy_ memories – were silver coloured.  
All in all, he was the third most weird wizard he had ever seen. Dumbledore and Voldemort held respectively the first and second place.  
  
The man waddled to the front of the classroom and the students who had yet to notice him ceased their conversations and turned their attention towards the new potions teacher.  
“Hello class,” the man started as soon as he had reached the front of the classroom and had seated himself in the massive chair, “my name is Horace Slughorn and I’ll be the new- well, _your_ new potions teacher.”

His voice was jovial and good-natured but there was an undertone to it that Harry only noticed because he was used to dealing with his uncle Vernon and his ever changing moods and Voldemort and his near emotionless way of talking and acting. Both men were- _had been_ too dangerous to _not_ keep an eye on their moods.  
  
“I used to be the potions teacher and head of house of Slytherin before I retired and Severus Snape became your potions teacher,” Slughorn continued, “now, who can tell me about Invisibility Potion?”  
Hermione’s hand immediately shot up and Slughorn motioned for her to answer the question, after he shot a cursory glance around the room to see if anyone else raised his or her hand  
  
Her answer sounded like it always did, as if she had swallowed the potions book. Slughorn nodded briefly at her before he asked another question and motioned for someone else to answer the question.  
The rest of the lesson continued in the same fashion.  
  
**oOo**  
  
Harry put his books, parchment and quill back into his bag and made to move out of the classroom when Slughorn called his name. Harry turned towards him.  
“Mister Potter, a word if you don’t mind,” the new professor said and Harry nodded before he turned back to Neville.  
“I’ll see you during DADA,” he muttered softly and Neville nodded and left the room.  
  
The man motioned for him to come closer as he made himself comfortable in his chair, a small box filled with what seemed to be sugared pineapple next to him. Harry did as he was told and he sat himself in the chair in front of the desk.  
“How can I help you professor?” he asked curious.

“Ah, you remind me so much of her,” Slughorn muttered softly and it was clear that it was only meant for his own ears, “straight to the point but polite.”  
He cleared his throat and grabbed one of the pieces of pineapple, “Minerva mentioned that no one ever told you stories about your mother. If you wish I can tell you about her.”  
His tone was deceivingly jovial and candid but there was a slight shrewd and greedy tone that he couldn’t hide and his eyes reflected the tone.  
  
Harry shifted slightly until he almost lounged in his chair. It was a strategy that should show the other person he was not to be messed with. At least, that was what Voldemort had told him, he didn’t quite understood the logic of it.  
He asked lightly, “not that I don’t appreciate the offer professor, but what is in it for you?”

Slughorn looked startled at him as he studied him briefly.  
“You remind me of _him_ ,” Slughorn said with a sigh, “sharp as a knife and always suspicious of others.”  
“Yes, I’m quite sure I remind you of my father,” Harry said and he forced himself to _not_ roll his eyes. He had heard a bit too often that he resembled his father to a T.  
“You look like your father,” Slughorn admitted, “but you act more like an old student of mine. You probably wouldn’t have heard of him. His name is – was – _is_ Tom Riddle.”

Harry felt himself stiffen slightly before he forcibly relaxed. He hoped that Slughorn hadn’t noticed.  
“I believe he has a shield in the Trophy Room,” Harry said pensively instead.  
“Yes, he does,” Slughorn said delighted, “he was such a brilliant boy. He saved this school from Slytherin’s monster , he did! You truly remind me of him. Both talented, both smart, both orphans. I wonder what happened to him?”  
  
Harry wished he could shift slightly but he steeled himself and said, “you didn’t answer my question sir: what is in it for you?”  
Slughorn sighed, “yes, so like him. I have small get-togethers once every while. I would be _honoured_ if you would attend them. In return, I’ll tell you everything I know about your mother, you father and the Marauders.”  
  
Harry thought it over, “I would like to think this over, if you don’t mind.”  
Slughorn nodded and Harry stood from his seat and moved over to the door where he paused and turned back to the still seated teacher.

“If you want to know what happened to Tom Riddle,” he said, “you could ask the headmaster. He seems to know a lot about the alumni.”  
Slughorn nodded his thanks and Harry quickly left, glad to be away from the potions teacher who reminded him a bit too much of a certain giant spider.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
_‘Hi Snuffles and Moony,_  
  
_How are you guys? I’m well. The first week has come and gone and I almost wish I was back with you guys. As you know, I wasn’t with either you, the Weasleys or at Hogwarts during the Christmas holiday and Ron and Hermione – and others – keep bothering me about it. I understand they are worried but I was safe, I promise! Saver than I ever was when I lived with the Dursleys, in fact._  
  
_Anyway, Malfoy is starting to become more and more like my now deceased cousin, except he has stopped targeting me. And Umbridge has decided that I’m her new favourite student ever. So that’s just plain weird. ___  
  
_And now the good news: Slughorn is a much better teacher than Snape ever was and he even offered me to tell me about my mum!_  
_I’m sorry about the short letter but please write me back soon!_  
  
_Harry’. ___  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
_‘Sir,_  
  
_How are you? I’m mostly fine. I haven’t gotten in trouble, though headmaster Dumbledore and professor McGonagall asked me to accompany them to the headmaster’s office where they asked me questions concerning where I stayed during the Christmas holiday. ___  
  
_Besides that: we have a new potions teacher. Horace Slughorn is his name and he offered to tell me about my parents and the Marauders. In return he asked me to attend some get-togethers he organizes. Should I take his offer? ___  
  
_About the library here at Hogwarts: I managed to convince madam Umbridge that I really need an all access permission pass for the Restricted Section and she agreed so I’ve started my search for that subject. I’ve yet to find anything, though. ___  
  
_I’m awaiting your answer,_  
_Harry._  
  
_PS: This is the correct way to write a letter, right?’_


	27. Chapter 26

**Family Ties  
  
Chapter 26  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells, inside the memory …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
_“Mind talk”_  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
He received the answers on his letters the next day during his breakfast slash ‘visiting Dobby’ time, which meant that he ate in the kitchens while spending time with Dobby.

Both parties wrote that he should agree with Slughorn’s deal.  
So he decided to take their advice and made his way down for his first lesson of the day, which was luckily enough for him, potions. He didn’t really care for the reasons as to why he should take it according to them. It was enough that they both thought he should.  
  
Neville had been stung the day before by one of the many dangerous plants Sprout kept in the greenhouses while helping the chubby professor, and was now residing in the Hospital Wing. Which meant that Harry had to walk towards the potions classroom alone.

Normally he wouldn’t particularly care about that, but with the way Malfoy kept targeting his friends he rather kept them in his sight. Especially as he knew that the blonde Slytherin, while spoiled, was quite skilled with his wand and sneaky enough to make sure that no one knew for certain that it had been him. **  
  
** He sighed as reached the classroom and saw that the doors were still closed and no one was there. He cast a tempus, only to groan as he realized that he was fifteen minutes early. Normally the Slytherins arrived ten minutes before the lessons started and the Gryffindors somewhere between five minutes before the lessons started and five minutes after the lessons should have started.  
And now he was fifteen minutes too early, which meant that he would have to endure five minutes with the Slytherins before the Gryffindors would start to appear.  
  
He sighed again and rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He might as well have some rest before he had to deal with the Slytherins.  
  
Five minutes later on the dot he heard the sounds of feet and voices approaching him, the one he recognized as Malfoy the loudest of all.  
He was once again bragging about something and Harry sighed softly in annoyance though he didn’t bother with opening his eyes.  
  
The feet stopped rather sudden and Harry wondered if the Slytherins were surprised to see him. It were moments like this that he missed having Ular with him. The snake was not only a brilliant companion but he was also a big help when it came to senses that he himself lacked.

While humans could see colours and could hear better, snakes were capable of seeing in the dark and smell everything that happened around them. His little second familiar – because he was still convinced that Hedwig was his familiar, no matter what Voldemort told him – was also a very capable spy.  
  
“Well, well, well,” Malfoy’s voice sounded, “if it isn’t Potter, all alone.”  
“What are you doing here Potter?” another voice – female this time – spat out and it took some time before he realised that it belonged to Pansy Parkinson, Malfoy’s possible girlfriend.

“The last time I checked,” Harry said coolly without opening his eyes, “this is the corridor before the potion’s classroom. And we happen to have potions in about ten minutes.”  
He opened his eyes after that, more than aware how the Slytherins would take it even though he didn’t outright insult them.

There were about ten off them and they all looked rather pissed off at seeing him there.  
  
It was nothing new, really. It was no different than what he had expected but it still came as a surprise when they all whipped out their wand and trained it on him. Well, all except Malfoy. For some time it was completely silent as the Slytherins seized him up – wands still raised – while he just stared back warily, his wand still in its holster.  
  
“You’re far outnumbered,” Malfoy gloated gleefully after a while, “nowhere to run now!”  
“The last time I checked I was a Gryffindor,” Harry muttered almost amused, “we don’t run. Besides, like I mentioned potions start in about ten minutes. Which means that the first Gryffindors will arrive in about five.”  
  
Malfoy growled at that and he stalked forward until he was  in Harry’s space.  
“I don’t know what you did to the Dark Lord,” he hissed sharply in his ear in a way he thought clearly intimidating, “but we all know that it should have been me who should be the heir. Not _you_!”  
“But he chose me,” Harry whispered back, “and you do know that suggesting that I ‘did something to him’ means you think him weak, right. Wonder what he would say if I told him that!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Malfoy snarled, “I will show him that I’m the better choice, that I’m _far better_ than you could ever be.”  
“Keep dreaming, Malfoy,” Harry said before he yawned, indicating that he was bored. It was a small _trick_ Voldemort had taught him. Showing that you were bored with a conversation over power indicated that you believed the other to be too weak to be a threat to you. It also angered the other, which could be bad of you didn’t have the situation under control.  
  
Luckily, Harry knew that it was only a matter of _seconds_ before the first Gryffindor would arrive as he had managed to glance at the _Tempus_ one of the Slytherins had cast just before he had yawned.  
“Why you-” Malfoy started only to be interrupted by a: “Get away from him you slimy Snake!” from Ron.  
  
Malfoy pushed away from Harry with a dark glare and a whispered, “this isn’t over.”  
Harry just yawned again as the blonde made his way back to his entourage.  
  
“Where were you during breakfast Harry?” Hermione asked almost as soon as they were by his side.  
“I wanted to talk to Dobby before lessons and I got a couple of letters so I had to leave early,” Harry said slightly irritated, “not that it is any of _your_ business if I decide to skip breakfast.”  
  
He knew that he was being unfair with them but he had just _had_ it with their behaviour.  
First _they_ started to pull away until they were suddenly little more than acquaintances. Then, when he had needed them the most they had completely turned their backs on him because he did something _his only parent figures_ told him. And, when he had found new friends and had finally managed to deal with all the mess – meaning both Umbridge and Voldemort – they had decided that they were best friends again.  
It didn’t _work_ like that!

“But Harry, we are your best friends!” Ron almost whined, “we only worry about yo-”  
And that was as far as he could get before Harry exploded.  
“No, you _were_ my best friend!” he hissed angrily, ignorant of the fact that the rest of the Gryffindor were starting to arrive.

“But Harry!” Ron protested.  
“Just leave me!” Harry growled as he stepped away from them, “if you want to know _why_ ask me when we _don’t_ have lessons!”  
  
Hermione looked as she was about to argue, but Slughorn opened the door at that exact moment and she was forced to keep silent and follow the rest of their classmates in.  
Leaving Harry with a far worse mood than before.  
  
**oOo  
**  
It was at the end of the lesson that his mood finally turned back to ‘slightly good’. He could finally tell the collect-crazy teacher that he would agree with his deal.  
And that meant that he would finally learn about his mother.  
  
It was true what Slughorn had mentioned, he _did_ know little about his mother. The only persons who seemed to know her well were either too grief struck to tell him about her or weren’t willing to speak about her because of other reasons. Either way, he would love to learn more about her. Even if it was out of the mouth of a teacher who seemed to resemble a certain giant spider that lived in the Forbidden Forest.  
  
Harry made his way over to the teacher’s desk as soon as the lesson’s end was called and the rest of the students made their way out of the classroom. **  
** Slughorn hadn’t moved away from said desk even once during the lesson, choosing instead to observe them from a distance and calling warnings to those that were about to ruin their potion badly.  
  
“Sir, I’ve considered your offer,” he started as soon as the teacher’s attention was on him, “and I’ve decided that I would like to take this chance to learn about my mother.”  
Slughorn’s eyes started to gleam in victory, “very good, my dear boy. Now, how about we hedge something out?”  
  
Together they made an agreement: Harry would visit the potion’s master one evening per week and in exchange he would attend one of Slughorn’s club evenings per month.  
  
**oOo  
**  
It was that very same evening – and just after he had visited Neville with Luna – that Ron and Hermione dragged him out of the homey Common Room and into an unused classroom.  
He didn’t feel like having this conversation – more like fight – with them but knew that it was necessary. So he sat down upon one of the dusty desks and turned towards his once best friends.  
  
“Now, tell us what you meant with: we ‘were’ your best friend,” Hermione demanded.  
“It is as I said,” Harry said almost tiredly, “you guys were my best friends.”  
“Why do you think that, mate?” Ron said clearly confused, “we still _are_ your best friend. Right?”  
“No, Ron, you aren’t,” Harry sighed as he removed his glasses from his face and rubbed his eyes, “Neville and Luna are my best friends. On the moment you are barely my acquaintances.”  
Ron opened his mouth to react but Hermione shushed him with a look before she said sadly, “why do you say that? We were always there for you!”  
  
“No, you weren’t,” Harry said as he replaced his glasses and looked back towards them, “this summer, when the two of you were together with the Order in Grimmauld Place, I had to deal with the Dursleys, their neglectful behaviour and the nightmares from the graveyard. And all my best friends sent me were letters with the message that I would be picked up soon.”  
So yeah, he was still bitter about it.  
  
“And I was willing to forgive you for that,” he almost spat, “and I was happy for the two of you when you got together, even though the two spent all your time together and I was let out. But I didn’t care, because I was _happy_ for you!”  
  
Hermione opened her mouth but Harry continued his rant, “but then I wrote that essay for DADA because Moony and Padfoot _warned_ me against angering Umbridge. Because she could make my life a _living hell_ , even worse than the Dursleys already managed to do every summer. And the two of you turned on me! Merlin, you _turned_ almost the entire House against me. Nobody would listen to me when I tried to explain myself!”  
  
He felt himself shake in rage and his words were almost spoken in Parseltongue as he spewed out everything that bothered him about the two in front of him. He tried to get a hold of his temper before he truly slipped in Parseltongue but he failed as Hermione opened her mouth.  
  
“Do you know how _hurt_ I was when almost all of the Gryffindors turned on me? Again, I must add,” Harry hissed angrily, “do you know how I felt when I tried to explain it all to you, Hermione? And all you told me was ‘that you would talk to Ron and the rest of the Gryffindors’!”  
He glared harshly at her and she flinched back.  
  
“And then, when I needed the two of you the most you weren’t there!” Harry snarled, “so no, you were not ‘always there for me’!”  
  
He panted as he finished his rant and sat back down on the desk he had claimed earlier, not even aware when exactly he had jumped up and had started to pace in front of the couple.  
  
“That’s why you are no longer my best friends,” Harry finally said softly as the silence dragged on too long.  
“We are sorry, Harry,” Hermione whispered, tears in her eyes. Ron nodded as he wrapped her in his arms.  
“We truly are,” he said, before he added, “is there any way, _anything_ we could do so we could at least be friends?”  
  
Harry sighed, “just accept that I’ve more friends than just the two of you. Accept that Neville and Luna are now my best friends. Accept that I’ll only tell you what I think you should know, and nothing more than that.”  
He breathed in deeply before he added softly, “Accept that I’m no longer your best friend.”  
  
The couple shared a look before they nodded, their heads bowed and tears in their eyes.  
Harry rose from where he was seated and left the classroom, not even looking back at the two defeated friends.  
  
When he made the track back towards the Common Room he thought back to their _conversation_ , secretly glad that that was over and that it was clear that they were no longer his best friends. It made him feel lighter.  
**  
oOo  
  
** That night he wrote a letter to Voldemort, describing everything that had transpired that day.  
He knew that he had promised himself that he would never confide in that man but he was – on the moment – the only one that was truly there for him. Sure, he had Neville and Luna and they would have listened. But Voldemort was his only family – Sirius didn’t really count as he had too much to deal with himself – and family meant everything to him.  
  
**oOoOoOo  
**  
He read the letter again and a sense of pleasure and victory erupted inside of him. The boy had finally started to trust him somewhat. And to a Gryffindor trust was equal to loyalty. At least, that used to be so when he had been in Hogwarts and he doubted that much had changed.  
  
So he now held the boy’s loyalty. Not all of it – he was quite sure that _his_ child was more loyal to Black, Lupin and those friends of him – but he was above the boy’s once best friends. And that was enough for the moment.  
There would come a time when his heir would _only_ turn to _him_ for help, would only trust _him_ , would be _only_ _his_. **  
**  
But that would take a while longer, he mussed as he turned back to the journals in front of him.  
As much as he trusted his child’s snowy owl, owl-post was an inconvenient way to write quick messages to others. It took at least a couple of hours before the owl finally found the person the letter was intended for. If that person wasn’t behind wards that stopped owls. Besides that: owls could be attacked by humans to either steal the letters or to harm their owners.  
  
This new way was not only more secure – as only they would be able to read it – it was also more convenient. And he so hated inconvenience.  
**  
oOoOoOo  
  
** He got a reaction to his letter the very next day – again. It was short and to the point but it also told him that the man _had_ read the letter.  
And it was accompanied by a _gift_. It was just a journal but according to the small note inside of it, it was linked to another journal. Voldemort was the owner of _that_ journal and what one of them wrote in their journal would show up in the journal of the other.  
  
All in all, it was a nice way to write to each other as it meant that he could use Hedwig to write Sirius and Remus more often. **  
  
oOo  
**  
It was a couple of weeks later and he had just entered the library to finish his homework.  
Malfoy had been a huge pain in the butt for the last couple of days. He would always sent harmless hexes towards Harry and his friends which made Harry seem like a complete moron. His bag would rip, he would trip, books would fall out of his hands and he would bump into everything and everyone. All thanks to Malfoy.  
It served to humiliate Harry and it was horribly annoying, but it wasn’t enough to go whining to his _grandfather_.  
  
He sighed as he sat down and picked his bag up only to hiss in annoyance as he noticed that his journal glowed softly – indicating that Voldemort had written something in his journal – as he opened his bag to retrieve his homework for the day.

It had become a common occurrence for him to open his bag only to be greeted with the soft glowing book in the weeks since he had the book but to his relieve – and very, _very_ secretly (so secretly that he would never even admit to himself) slight disappointment – the man had been oddly silent the last couple of days.  
  
He quickly looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to him – as the library was a public place and he _had_ just sat down – and carefully extracted the book from his bag, mindful of the ink that had found its way into his bag courtesy of a certain white haired Slytherin.   
He spelled some of the ink that had landed on it away and opened it to see what his grandfather wanted now.  
  
_‘Child,  
Dolores Umbridge will ask you to come to her office soon. There you’ll be greeted by the  charming lady herself, the bumbling oaf that is our current minister and myself. Make sure that neither your friends nor a certain headmaster finds out about this!  
Your grandfather.’_  
  
Harry stared at the message in complete bewilderment as he reread the first sentence. Why would he be called? And why was Voldemort in Hogwarts? And how? His brows furrowed as he contemplated those questions. It wasn’t _that_ strange that Umbridge would call for him as she had done so before to talk about his latest – mostly horrifying – essays.

But why would she call him while she had guests? To brag about her accomplishment? To show him off? But if that were the case, why would Voldemort write him?  
  
All he could do was wait until he was called, he decided as he closed the journal, placed it back in his bag and took his homework out. He quickly spelled ink away – still wondering how to get it actually out of his bag, as Malfoy had somehow spelled it to be resistant of all spells he had tried – and checked what he had to do.  
He retrieved and opened the necessary books from the nearby bookcases and started writing.  
  
**oOo  
**  
It was after he had finally finished his transfiguration essay that a terrified second year brought him a note from Umbridge – pink and decorated with cats – with the message to come to her office as soon as he could, please.  
He sighed and packed his stuff away – once again looking mournful at the mess that was his bag – before he collected the books he wanted to borrow, checked them out and left the library.  
  
The road to the DADA classroom wasn’t that long but Harry couldn’t help but wish that it was shorter, as he spent most of the time needed coming up with ideas as to _why_ she asked for him when she had guests. Again.  
  
He knocked softly as soon as he reached the door and, after a shrill ‘open’, opened it and entered the classroom. It was still as pink as ever and the cats meowed as soon as he entered. It was easy to say that he didn’t want to be in that classroom if he didn’t have to.  
  
“Good afternoon. You asked for me, professor?” he asked as soon as he had closed the door. He immediately noticed the two man seated next to her and greeted them with a short, “grandfather, minister.”  
“Good afternoon Harry,” Umbridge simpered and Harry grimaced – internally of course, “why don’t you sit down.”

He did as he was asked and took the chair in front of the desk, only to be joined by Voldemort – who seemed to have donned the disguise of Tom Riddle once again – a couple of seconds later.

“Tea?” the toad-like teacher asked sweetly – Harry wondered if he should ask madam Pomfrey for a potion against cavities – as she waved towards the teapot strategically placed in the middle of the desk. He noticed that both Umbridge and Fudge had a cup in front of them while there was no cup in front of the spot Voldemort had sat before.  
“No thank you,” he answered politely.  
  
“You are probably wondering why I asked you here,” Umbridge said, suddenly serious – the fake sweetness had disappeared from her voice. Harry just nodded.  
“Your grandfather remarked that we were _unfair_ in how we acted towards you regarding the _incident_ of last year,” Fudge took over, “he _asked_ us to hear your side of the story.”  
Harry shot a quick glance at the Dark Lord seated next to him. He felt something stir inside of his mind but he ignored it.  
_“Ask for Veritaserum,”_ a voice in his head whispered, _“but make it seem like you **need** it!”_  
He lowered his eyes and twisted his hands in his lap.  
  
“I- You- You’ll have to understand that I don’t really like talking about it,” he said softly, “I- I still have nightmares about that night.”  
“We understand, dear,” Umbridge simpered and it was a good thing that Harry’s face was still tilted downwards because he was sure that they would have seen him gag otherwise. All they saw now was him shaking slightly.  
  
He closed his eyes briefly before he opened them again and looked up, determined, “can’t you give me something? That way I won’t be forced to relive my memories and you have my answers?”  
Fudge and Umbridge shared a glance before Fudge asked, “have you ever heard of Veritaserum?”  
“Yeah,” Harry said nonplussed, “Snape used to threaten me with it. It’s a truth potion right?”  
  
_“Smart, child, smart,”_ the voice sounded again, _“make them suggest it. We’ll make a true Slytherin out of you yet!”_  
Harry grimaced internally but didn’t react outwardly.  
  
“It is,” Voldemort said smoothly, “it is a lovely concoction, one drop is enough to let people spill their true feelings without even knowing. Three is enough to let them spill everything they believe to be true. If they are sensitive to the serum, of course.”  
  
“We don’t have it on hand,” Fudge said, conveniently ignoring the last part, “but luckily there is a potion master in this castle. Madam, if you would do the honour.”  
“Of course,” Umbridge said sweetly, sickly so, as she batted her short eye lashes at Fudge. Harry felt like gagging, again, but this time Voldemort seemed to agree with him if the slight sneer was to go by.  
  
Umbridge stood from her pink chair and made her way over to the fire place, only to start grumbling as she noticed that she was out of floo powder.  
“Damn creatures,” she snarled softly but everyone in the room could hear her clearly, except maybe Fudge as he continued studying the room, “never do they listen.”  
She snapped her fingers and a small, thin house elf popped into the room.

“How can Mossy be helping youse?” it asked.  
“Floo powder,” Umbridge snapped angrily. The elf squeaked and popped out of the room, only to appear a couple of seconds later with the powder.  
“Dismissed,” she snapped and the elf popped out again. Umbridge turned back to them with a sickly sweet smile, “I’m sorry about that.”  
  
It didn’t take long after that before she had floo-called Slughorn. The man appeared shortly after that with the requested potion.  
Only to stop short as his eyes fell onto Voldemort.

“T-Tom?” he stuttered as his gaze shot from Voldemort, to Harry and to the minister and back.  
“You know each other?” Umbridge asked surprised.  
“He used to be my potions teacher,” Voldemort said smoothly, “I admit that I’m surprised that he has started to teach again.”  
Harry wondered if it was possible to arrange a ‘best-actor’ award for the wizarding world. Because it was clear that Voldemort deserved one.  
  
Fine pearls of sweat started to stream down the fat wizard’s face and he quickly wiped them away with his sleeve.  
“I-I haven’t heard of or about you for so long!” the man continued in an attempt to make it seem as if he was truly curious about it. Sadly enough, the way his eyes shot from the door, to the window, to the fireplace and towards Voldemort gave the fact that he was nervous away.

“H-how are you?” Slughorn continued.  
“Fine, just fine,” Voldemort said and he shot him a shark-like smirk, “I found out that I’ve a grandson a couple of months ago.”  
“A- a grandson? You?” Slughorn exclaimed only to stumble back as Voldemort gaze turned dark.  
“Yes, a grandson,” he told him emotionless, “and he is the reason why madam Umbridge called you here.”  
  
Slughorn’s eyes widened in surprise before he turned towards Harry.  
“ _He_ is your grandson?” he managed to sputter, his many chins wobbled frighteningly as he gaped at him before he closed his mouth again and muttered softly, “the two of you do look alike. And there are other similarities.”

“The Veritaserum?” Umbridge interrupted before Slughorn could say something else.  
“Ah, yes of course,” the man muttered as he searched his pockets mechanically, still shocked by the news he just heard. He handed it to her a couple of seconds later.  
  
“Are you aware of the rules that go with the usage of Veritaserum?” he asked her after he had finally snapped out of his daze.  
“Of  course,” she almost snapped, “the Minister is here to give the permission, as is the boy’s guardian. All we need is someone to question him, which will be my task, and someone to make sure that everything goes by the rules. Meaning: you.”

“Al right,” the man sighed before he turned towards Harry, “are you ready my dear boy?”  
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Harry said nervously, his hands twisted in his lap.  
  
“Three drops?” Slughorn asked and, after a nod from both Voldemort and the Minister, made his way over to Harry and gestured that he should open his mouth.  
Harry did as told and the man carefully dropped the three drops on his tongue.  
  
His mind became almost immediately foggy and he felt himself lose control of his senses _and_ his mind. He felt himself starting to panic.  
_“Relax, child. There is no danger here.”_ The same voice as before crooned and Harry felt himself relax.  
  
A very muffled, distant: “he is ready” sounded – as if his ears were filled with cottons – before a question pierced through the fog that was his hearing: “What is your name?”  
“Harry James Potter,” his voice replied completely emotionless without his consent and he started to panic again. The voice started to coo at him and he relaxed again.  
“It works,” another voice sounded, just as distant as the very first had, “if you will, ma’am.”  
  
“What happened after you and master Diggory touched the Triwizard Cup?” this question too pierced through the fog.  
“We were transported away towards a graveyard,” his voice replied, and it was only thanks to the soft cooing that he wasn’t panicking for the third time.

“How?” another voice managed to pierce through the fog.  
“The Cup was a portkey,” his voice answered.  
  
“What happened when you landed in the graveyard?” the first voice asked.  
“I landed on my wounded leg and fell down, Cedric managed to land on his feet,” his voice answered emotionless, no matter how badly he wanted to stop talking, “Cedric helped me up and he suggested that we drew our wands. We looked around but all we could see was the Cup, the grave tombs and an old, decrepit house in the distance. In the middle of the graveyard stood a large, clearly heavy cauldron filled with some kind of potion on top of large fire. We made our way towards the cauldron.”  
  
“What happened next?” Another voice asked this question.  
“As soon as we reached it a man stepped from behind one of the dark gravestones,” his voice continued. Harry felt himself become confused, the way he told it now was _not_ how it had happened.  
“He pointed his wand towards us and began to tell us about how he was the most loyal follower Voldemort had ever had,” Harry was now completely sure that something was not quite right and he started to fight against the fog.  
_“Stop fighting it, this will only help you.”_   The voice in his mind told him.  
  
“Could you see who this man was?” came the question.  
“No,” he responded.

“What happened next?”  
“He fired an Avada Kedavra towards Cedric. It hit him. I fired a Disarming Charm at the man but he ducked and shot a Cruciatus Curse towards me. I wasn’t able to duck due to my wounds and it hit me. I fell down on the ground, screaming in pain. After a while he lifted it again and he turned back towards the now boiling cauldron.”  
  
“Could you see what was inside the cauldron?” Harry had the feeling that Slughorn had asked this question as the tone felt almost curious.  
“No,” he answered.  
  
“What happened after the man turned back to the cauldron?” an impatient voice pierced through the fog.  
“He began to ramble about how the potion would bring Voldemort back from the dead, all he needed was the bone of his father, the flesh of a loyal servant and the blood of an enemy.  
After that he removed two things from the shadows from where he had appeared from and dropped it in the cauldron before he made his way over towards me. He threw another _Crucio_ at me after which he cut part of my sleeve away and cut my arm. He collected some of my blood in a small flask. When it was filled he walked back towards the cauldron and dropped the blood in it.”  
  
“Did the potion change colour?” the same voice that had asked about the potion before asked.  
“Yes,” he answered for the first time that night.  
“What happened after that?” the impatient voice asked.  
  
“The potion boiled and turned a dark, ugly brown before the potion started to boil over. Everywhere the potion landed it started to burn and it was not long thereafter that the man – who had been watching the potion anxiously and who had been chanting something under his voice the entire time – was hit by the potion. His cloths started to burn but he still kept chanting, even though he tried to extinguish the fire. In the end, the fire spread to the rest of his clothing and his hair and he had to stop chanting. He started to hop around to stop getting burned alive. He somehow managed to bump into the cauldron and more of the potion landed on him. He burned alive before my eyes but not before he managed to cast some kind of spell on me.”  
  
“What happened after he had _died_?” a soft voice asked.  
“I shakily made my way over towards Cedric’s body and my wand. I was dizzy and nauseous and the spell made me feel lightheaded. As soon as I had it I summoned the Cup and was whisked back towards Hogwarts.”

“You shouted that Voldemort was back as soon as you landed. Why?” the impatient voice asked.  
“I felt compelled to,” his voice answered for him, “like I had no choice but to shout that out.”  
“It is clear that that last spell was to force him to tell us that,” a soft voice sounded through the fog, “I believe that this is enough information Minister?”  
  
“Yes, yes,” the impatient voice sounded distantly through the fog, “give him the antidote.”  
His mouth was gently forced open and three drops were dripped upon his tongue. Almost immediately the fog retreated and he could control his own actions and mind.

_“I don’t have to tell you that it would be very foolish to tell them that you just lied while under the effects of Veritaserum.”_ The voice in his mind spoke gently before it retreated. Harry felt empty almost immediately and it was then that he realised that it had been cooing at him the entire time.  
  
“Thank you for your accord of what happened that evening, Harry,” Umbridge simpered as soon as she noticed that he was back among the living, “and thank you for being so brave as to take the Veritaserum even though you still suffer from what happened!”  
“You’re welcome,” Harry muttered.  
  
“Now, I believe someone owns him an apology, don’t you agree Minister?” Voldemort drawled from his side, “after all, my grandson was slandered because no one thought to _ask_ him personally.”  
Fudge turned purple at the derogatory tone.  
  
“After all, it wasn’t his fault that no one asked him,” Voldemort continued, dark amusement visible on his face, “but he was the one called crazy by the _Daily Prophet_ and other papers. And he was the one who had to pay for the neglect of others.”  
Fudge had started to sputter.  
  
“I want his honour restored,” Voldemort said, suddenly coldly, “I want a formal apology from the _Prophet_ and the Ministry – as everyone knows that the Ministry controls the _Prophet_ – and I want compensation for every lowly comment made in the _Prophet_.”  
“What kind of compensation?” Fudge asked almost angrily.

“According to our laws someone who has been slandered has the right to demand that the Ministry chooses between two choices when it comes to compensation,” Voldemort told him, a dark smirk on his face, “money or the shutdown of the one who did the slandering. In the Dark Ages it meant the death of the slanderer. But we no longer live in the Dark Ages, so the shutdown of the _Prophet_ will have to do.”

Fudge started to sputter.  
“So, what will it be, Minister?” Voldemort asked as he leaned forward, “it’s your choice.”


	28. Chapter 27

**Family Ties**  
  
Chapter 27  
  
_Letters, books ‘…’_  
Spells, inside the memory, vision …  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
_“Mind talk”_  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry didn’t quite know how to feel about the conversation in Umbridge’s office and the couple of days that followed after it.  
  
The first thing he had noticed – and he noticed it the very same day – was that Umbridge had changed in the way she treated him. She used to be all simpering, sweet and gushing around him but there had always been some kind of gleam in her eyes. There was also something forced in the way she interacted with him that showed that she didn’t trust him, that she didn’t like him and that she wanted to make his life a living Hell. But he had never given her a reason so she couldn’t, not really.  
The weird gleam in her eyes had disappeared and with it had her behaviour. She still simpered and gushed but she seemed _genuine_. And that was enough to make him gag and feel dirty.  
  
But it was the next couple of days that changed everything.  
The morning after the conversation brought a number of articles in the _Daily Prophet_ , one offered him their excuses for their slandering and some managed to gush about his _grandfather_ , their relationship and the fact that he still had magical family left – something Dumbledore had always denied.

There were also articles that stated how he had been confounded that horrible, horrible night and articles that described how nobody had tried to find out what exactly had happened until quote _Harry Potter’s caring grandfather_ unquote, had pointed it out to the Minister. Those articles also criticized both Fudge and Dumbledore because they _should_ have asked him about that night.  
Especially Dumbledore’s name was dragged through the mud time and again.  
  
The lunch following that article brought dozens upon dozens of letters for him in which people either stated how sorry they were for ever doubting him or in which they pointed out that he could have stepped forward earlier. Others congratulated him on finding such a charming and caring grandfather.  
Harry burned them all.  
  
Worse than the letters and the articles were the reactions of his classmates.  
Some of them – mostly those that had called him a liar at the beginning of the year – came to him to apologize. Others came to him to ask what truly had had happened, as the _Daily Prophet_ hadn’t mentioned that night except to state that he had been confounded.  
And then there were those that came to him asking why had told them that Voldemort had returned.  
Harry just smiled at those that apologized, gave answers that gave nothing away to those that asked about the night and stated to the last group that he had never stated that Voldemort had returned. After all, he never truly had.  
  
The only ones that didn’t come up to him were the Slytherins. Every time he saw one of them in the hallways they would either glare at him, sneer at him, bare their teeth or hiss veiled threats. He was almost thankful for the fact that _they_ hadn’t changed that much.  
  
The worst of the aftermath came after dinner when he had finally managed to ditch everyone who wanted to know what happened or who wanted to apologize. Sadly enough, _everyone_ was just everyone _not_ in Gryffindor and the moment he had entered the common room he was once again forced to listen to people apologize and questions asked. It had bothered him when people he barely knew asked those questions but it bothered him even more when people who had known him somewhat for at least four years asked those questions. Especially as some of the questions had been asked when some of the people now surrounding him had been present.  
  
It took him some time but he finally managed to get away from the large group – with some help of Neville, Hermione and Ron – to flee to his dorm. Once there he quickly made himself ready for bed before he closed the curtains of his bed, not even caring that the evening had barely started and that he still had to finish the essays he had been assigned that very day. The last thought he had before he fell asleep was that he hoped that the next day wouldn’t  be as emotionally exhausting.  
  
**oOo**  
  
Contrary to what he believed, the next day was even worse than the previous day. The first letter that arrived that day was a small note from Gringotts stating that his new guardian had decided that he should receive a statement about the amount of money his vaults – he wasn’t even aware that he had more vaults than the one he had always used since he had turned eleven – contained.

It also stated that his previous guardian should have done the same as soon as he had turned fourteen but said previous guardian had decided against it for reasons unknown. Gringotts had offered their sincere apologies but there was nothing they could have done against the restrictions of his previous guardian.  
  
It was quite a shock to him to see that the vault he had always used was just a vault his parents had set aside for him to use during his school and further education until he turned twenty-one. The moment he turned twenty-one he would finally gain permission to access the Potter family vault, unless his guardian deemed him either too immature or too squandering to use the money.  
  
The second page contained the actual amount of money and the amounts that had been withdrawn.  
The same small amount of money had been withdrawn from the small vault he was allowed to use every single year since he had started Hogwarts. The Potter Vault on the other hand had gained money, both due to the interest but also because his parents and grandparents had made some small investments that paid off. Combined with the value of the items in the vault it contained a little over 250.000 galleons.

All in all, it appeared that he was rich. Not enough to be on par with the Malfoys or the Blacks, whom were rumoured to be beyond filthy rich, but rich enough that he didn’t have to worry if he were to lose his job once he started working. It also meant that he could afford a nice house once he was out of Hogwarts and that he didn’t have to live with Voldemort after he had turned twenty-one.  
  
A third page told him that Voldemort had decided to give him an allowance of two galleons a month from his own vault to Harry’s small vault. That same page told him also that he should expect some large amounts of money to be added to the Potter Family vault in the next week, though no reason was given.  
  
The rest of the morning was more or less a repeat of the day before and by lunch time he had had more than enough. People kept sending him letters and his classmates kept either shooting him looks of awe or disbelieve and those who hadn’t yet randomly came up to him to apologize.  
It drove him crazy.  
  
What was even worse were the questions that kept whirling around in his head. How had he lied when he was under Veritaserum? And how did Voldemort gain access to his mind? Legilimency? Could anyone gain access to his mind like Voldemort had? And if so, how did he defend against it? Occlumency? How did one learn it?

He wished he could go to the library to look it up but the fact that he was almost always stopped by someone made that impossible. Especially as he still had to finish the homework he had gotten since that day which he hadn’t finished yet thanks to all the people coming up to him and the fact that he just couldn’t escape them.  
  
In the end he had just written the questions down in the journal in the hope that his grandfather would answer them.  
  
**oOo**  
  
It was a couple of days later that everything finally calmed down. People had stopped bothering him and the tsunami of letters had trickled down to only a couple of letters a day.  
People still treated him like some kind of circus animal but it was more like the first couple of weeks of his first year and thus bearable.

All in all he was glad that things were dying down. Especially as it meant that he could finally go to the library or hang out with his friends without being jumped. Before people started to leave him alone he had to send Neville to get the books he needed.  
  
It was on moments like that that he truly appreciated that he and Neville – and Luna of course – had grown so close. Ron would’ve either nagged long and hard about the fact that he could always use the fact that people kept bothering as an excuse to not do his homework or he would have been jealous of all the attention. That or he would have laughed his head off.  
Hermione on the other hand would’ve brought books that he _hadn’t_ asked for only to rip his essay away from him as soon as he appeared to be done to check it. Afterwards she would nag about the fact that his work was less than tolerable and that he should have read the books.

He knew that he shouldn’t think of his kind-of friends like that but he was aware that the way he thought of them _was_ part of the truth. Sure, they had their good characteristics but Hermione could be overbearing and a know-it-all with a superiority complex and Ron was lazy and jealous and didn’t really care about marks.  
  
He sighed as he tried refocused his concentration on the book in front of him. It was one of the only books he could find that touched the subject of ‘mind arts’. But he had already known everything it had mentioned so far and he doubted that the book contained something useful.  
And if he wanted answers he had to do something so he kept reading.  
Besides Voldemort still hadn’t answered his questions but he had felt the intrusion in his mind more and more and every time he felt it he tried to get rid of it. He felt violated every time it happened and he had yet to succeed.  
  
The sad part was that he barely had the time to concentrate on his chosen subject. The OWL’s were coming up and he and Neville spent almost all their free time studying.  
And since Voldemort had all but forced him to get the highest marks he could possible get – luckily that didn’t mean that he had to do everything perfect – he had to study even more than he normally did. Especially as he still didn’t know everything about History of Magic, potions or Divination.  
  
And he really, _really_ didn’t want to find out what would happen if he got something below E.  
  
**oOo**  
  
At the end of the week he had finally received the letter stating that ‘the large amounts of money’ had been transferred to his family vault.

The first amount was the amount the _Daily Prophet_ was to pay him for their slandering in both his fourth year and during the first half of this year. 1500 galleons were added; 750 for his fourth year and 500 for this year. The last 250 was a gift to show they were sorry.

The second amount was much larger. Somehow the Ministry had gained access to the cottage in Godric’s Hollow and they had all but made it their property. According to the letter that came with his statement Voldemort had demanded they pay the rent one should pay for a cottage in that village _and_ a fine for stealing from a child. Another 250.000 was added. 150.000 for the rent of the cottage and 100.000 as a fine.

The last amounts were loans and investments that had yet to be paid. According to the letter people had owned him money but as no one came knocking sooner they didn’t pay it. Voldemort had forced them to pay, once again with a fine. All together another 50.000 was added.  
That brought him to an added total of 301.500 galleons, which had easily doubled the amount of money in the Family vault.  
  
When he had first seen the amount he had frozen still in shock. The second time he had seen it – because he found himself incapable of thinking about it without freezing for at least three days after he had first seen it – the question of why flew through his mind. Why had Voldemort bothered with getting the money back people owed _him_? And why _now_?  
With a sigh he had added the questions to his already long list of questions which had yet to be answered.  
  
But the one question that he didn’t write down was the one that continued to haunt him: why hadn’t Dumbledore called him to his office?  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
It was a couple of weeks later that he finally heard something from his grandfather.  
  
It was the evening of the Wednesday before the OWL’s would start that Harry’s journal had finally started to glow again. He had been resting on his bed, reading one of the many tomes describing the many wars with goblins, but he quickly dropped the book in favour of grabbing and opening the journal.  
  
The message inside was long and he quickly started to read:  
  
_‘Child,_  
_As always, your impatiens never seizes to amaze me. Therefor I’ll only answer the questions of which you can’t find the answers for yourself._  
_Books about the mind arts are rare, as you’ve already found out. Therefore, I’ve selected a few books you can read once you’re back in my mansion. They will answer most of your questions concerning said mind arts._  
  
_The question about how you managed to lie under Veritaserum is an easy one. Some people are born immune to the potion. You probably aren’t as it is incredibly rare. However there are other ways to become immune, or at least partially immune as true immunity can only be gained by being born immune._  
_One of them is a mastery of Occlumency. Another one is changing the biological make-up of your genes. The potion is designed for humans, and humans only. You carry a small amount of the DNA of a Lamia, a magical creature. It’s not enough to make you a magical creature and it will never give you extra power or their skills, but you contain enough of their DNA code to make you not entirely human. So while the potion will affect you, its effect will never be as strong as it will be on someone whom is fully human. Combine that with the bond we have and it is possible for you to lie while under the effects of Veritaserum. However, these are specific circumstances that make it possible so I suggest you still stay as far away from that potion as you can._  
  
_Onto the subject of money. It appeared as if some people had yet to pay off the money they owed your parents and grandparents. I just rectified that. Combine that with the money the Ministry owed you for the usage of the cottage in Godric’s Hollow and the money the Prophet had to pay you for their slandering and you get the amount of money I added to your family vault. That’s all there is to it._  
_About the two galleons a month: you are my charge and an allowance happens to be normal as far as I know._  
  
_I want you to do your very best on your OWL’s as the results have a large impact on your future. I’m aware that you’ve already had the conversation with your Head of House about your future career and I wish to discuss this choice with you as soon as you’re back at the mansion. I know of the fact that you’ve already told her that you want to become an auror, but these kind of conversations should be held after the heir has spoken with the Head of the Family, something you failed to do. ___  
_As I’m aware that you’ve been raised by muggles, I’ll let it slide this time. I will not be as lenient the next time. ___  
  
_And last but not least. As you might have guessed, Dumbledore will expect that we have some show off at the end of the year. Therefore you can expect something on the last day of your OWL examinations. You don’t have to worry about the OWL examination itself as I will not interrupt it in any way, shape of form._  
_The knowledge that something will happen doesn’t give you the right to slacken on your examination however!_  
  
_Good luck,_  
_Your grandfather’._  
  
He stared pensively at the entry in the journal, pondering what his grandfather meant with ‘not entirely human’. What did that mean? And why did he have to talk to Voldemort about his career choices?  
“Something wrong?” Neville’s voice came and he blinked up at him as he was pulled out of his musing.  
“No, nothing’s wrong,” he answered slowly, “just thinking.”  
“About?” Neville asked, “you were awfully distracted just now.”  
  
“Did you have to talk with your grandmother about your career choice?” he asked him as he turned his full attention on the other boy.  
“No, but she is not the Head of my Family,” Neville answered, “she is just the woman who has raised me. But it is fairly normal for the families with an active Head to have such a talk. It is just to make sure that the children have actually thought of their career choice.”  
“So it’s normal?” Harry asked dubious.  
“Yes,” Neville nodded before he took a deep and shaky breath, “if my f-fath- my _father_ were still sane he would have had this talk with me around Christmas.”  
  
Harry nodded before he quickly changed the subject, “let’s just concentrate on our OWL’s shall we?”  
“Yes, lets,” Neville said with a sharp nod, “think you can explain that transfiguration theory to me again?”  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
It was during his last OWL examination – History of Magic – that he felt the intrusion in his mind again. He had already been nervous because of the fact that it was _History_ and the fact that Voldemort was going to do _something_ as soon as he was finished with his exam, so the intrusion didn’t help. But he was almost done so he gamely tried to ignore it but as the time ticked by his scar began to burn and a headache started to appear. It wasn’t enough of a headache to really bother him but he found that he had to recheck everything he wrote thrice to make sure he didn’t make any mistakes.  
  
By the time he had finally finished his written exam he was glad because his headache had grown worse and his scar had started to sting lightly.  
As the minutes ticked by his headache grew worse and through bleary eyes he studied the small grains of sand as they kept falling down, praying that the examination would be finished soon so he could lie down.  
  
Luckily it didn’t take that long before the examiner called out that their time was up and he gladly left the Great Hall, not even waiting for his friends. He hesitated briefly between going outside or going to the Dorms so he could lay down but his friends quickly caught up with him and dragged him outside.  
  
Once their he collapsed underneath one of the many free trees with the hope that it would ease some of his pain, only to let a hiss slip past his lips as his scar burned and his head felt as if it was about to split. With another hiss of pain he bent double and the last thing he saw before his surroundings changed abruptly was the worried faces of his friends and Neville yelling at Ron to get a teacher, ‘it didn’t matter which one, just go!’.  
  
_The images flew past him but he still recognized parts of the Ministry of Magic. The speed slowed down until he could see the lift and the fact that a finger pressed the button of one of the lowest levels before the speed picked up again. The next thing that was shown in relatively normal speed was a door at the end of a hallway filled with doors, followed by an image of the number 97 before the images slowed down until the time ticked by at a normal pace. He watched with dread as he was guided around a corner and he couldn’t help but gasp in shock at what he saw. On the floor lay Sirius, covered in blood and shaking as he was held at wandpoint by what appeared to be Voldemort. Harry stumbled back a few steps in horror. But… No… Voldemort had promised that he wouldn’t hurt Sirius!_  
_Voldemort’s eyes moved from where he had rested them on Sirius until he gazed straight at him._  
_“Come to me, child,” he said,  “tell your friends what you saw here and come to me.”_  
_“Bu-but Sirius,” Harry sputtered before he exclaimed loudly in betrayal,  “you promised.”_ ****  
_Voldemort laughed a high and cruel laugh, “never believe what people tell you when there is no magic involved to bind the promise. That is the first lesson you should have been taught. Now come here before I feel inclined to hurt even more people you care about! You have three hours.”_  
_Before Harry could react he was expelled out of the vision, the high, cruel and cold laughter ringing in his ears._  
  
“-ry, Harry!” a voice sounded from a distance as he returned to his own body, highly confused, scared, betrayed and angry.  
He blinked a couple of times to get his bearings back – and to get rid of the weird colours that flashed before his eyes – before he took note of his surroundings. He was still underneath the same tree but his head was resting in Luna’s lap and Neville, Ron, Hermione and Ginny stood protectively in a circle around him.

“Are you alright?” Luna asked as soon as she noticed that he was awake.  
“What did you see?” Hermione quickly fired off as soon as Luna had asked her question, net even waiting for him to answer Luna’s question first.  
“Sirius,” he managed to say, “he has Sirius.”


	29. Chapter 28

**Family Ties  
  
Chapter 28  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells, inside the memory, vision …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
_“Mind talk”_  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Harry carefully sat up, mindful of the disorientation caused by his still burning scar and pounding headache. Luckily, the headache and the pain in his scar was slowly starting to fade away. It had started at the same time as the presence in his head had disappeared – the only positive thing on the moment – and Harry suspected that it had something to do with Voldemort and the vision he had just had.  
“What did you mean with ‘he has Sirius’?” Hermione asked carefully, “do you mean…?”  
Harry nodded as he rose shakily to his feet, “ _he_ has him. Somewhere in the Ministry of Magic.”  
  
The group shared looks as he tried to gather himself back together and get his still rampaging emotions under control.  
It took him almost a full minute before he finally managed but he jumped into action as soon as he had by stumbling towards the castle.  
  
“Wait, Harry!” Hermione called out and she quickly made her way towards him before he could get away, “just wait until you feel at least slightly better. And we need a plan, we can’t just barge into the Ministry without a plan.”  
“He has Sirius,” Harry spat as he whirled around, only to stop half way in his spin due to dizziness, “and what do you mean ‘we’? I’m going alone; I’m not going to risk you guys too! It’s bad enough _he_ has Sirius!”

“And you are in no shape or form to help him. Especially not alone,” Luna pointed out dreamily, “you might have gotten Loser’s Lurgy.”  
“Er, how does one cure that?” Neville asked as he blinked in confusion before he added, “and Luna is right, we are going with you. You are _not_ going alone. Not when _he_ is there too, because he won’t be alone.”  
“Oh, very easily,” Luna said with a soft smile, “by resting.”

“There is no such thing as _Loser’s Lurgy_!” Hermione snapped.  
Luna looked ready to argue with the girl – or make a comment about her not able to see certain things – but Harry interrupted them.  
  
“Sirius, Ministry, Voldemort!” he almost shouted desperately as he tried to fight the nausea, “ring any bells?”  
The others flinched but they turned their attention back on him.  
“Sorry Harry,” Luna murmured as she made her way over to him, dragged him back towards the tree and placed her hands on his shoulders to push him down, much to the displeasure of Ginny.

Harry huffed in annoyance but relaxed back against the tree before he asked, “did someone notify a teacher?”  
Ron shook his head, “couldn’t find a teacher. Not even in their lounge.”

“Dumbledore? McGonagall?” Harry asked as he rose again – fluently this time – and started to move away from the tree and towards the castle again, only to stop a few feet away from the tree to wait for the others, having given up on trying to get them to stay.  
“I already checked the map, both are gone,” Ron told him as he put his hand in his pocket and pulled the map out, “here, check for yourself.”

Harry accepted it, quickly spoke the password and quickly searched the map for someone, _anyone_ who could help them.  
  
“Then we have to go by ourselves,” he finally spoke after a couple of seconds, “anyone an idea what the fastest way is without alerting anyone?”  
“Flying,” Hermione said, “we can’t apparate, use the floo or use a portkey.”  
“We don’t have enough brooms,” Ron said, “and two of you can’t fly. Er, no offence.”  
“Thestrals,” Luna said seriously, “they are fast and safe.”  
  
Ginny looked around in confusion, “can anyone tell me what Thestrals are? And _where_ they are?”  
“Some kind of really bony horses with wings,” Ron said, “they like raw meat. There are a couple of them in the Forbidden Forest.”

“A Thestral is a kind of horse with a skeletal body, reptilian features on its face and bat-like wings,” Hermione lectured with a roll of her eyes, “they are very rare, very dangerous according to the Ministry and mostly seen as bad omens as they are only visible to those who have seen death at least once. They can be domesticated and they are an alternative for apparition or flying. If they are well trained they will be very diligent and willing to carry their trainer everywhere. Hogwarts has a herd of them in the Forbidden Forest.”  
  
“There must be a faster way,” Harry said stubbornly, “we are miles away from London and I’ve a deadline.”  
“How long do you have?” Neville asked nervously.  
“Three hours,” Harry responded as he started to pace on his spot.

“You could ask Umbridge,” Luna said hesitantly, aware of his dislike of the toad-like woman, “her office has a floo connected to the Ministry.”  
“And tell her what?” Harry said agitated, “that we want to rescue Sirius Black – a known murderer – from Voldemort – the guy that supposedly died almost fourteen years ago?”  
“It’s terrible idea,” Hermione agreed, “anyone a better idea?”  
  
Harry wrecked his mind in an attempt to think of _anything_ that would be faster and more inconspicuous than a Thestral but he came up empty.  
“I can’t think of anything,” Ginny huffed, “anyone else?”  
The others shook their heads, even Hermione.

“I hate riddles,” Ron murmured as he kicked against a stone, “let’s get those Thestrals shall we, we might make it in time-”  
“No, wait,” Harry said slowly as he realised something, he had stopped listening as soon as Ron had uttered the word ‘riddle’, “we could actually ask Umbridge. We just need to omit the details.”  
The others gaped at him as he briskly walked towards the castle before they quickly followed him inside.  
  
After all, if he had to go against a master manipulator he might as well use the things he had been taught by said master manipulator. He might not like it but as long as it helped him to get Sirius back he didn’t exactly care.  
  
**oOo  
**  
Harry knocked softly on the door and opened it quickly as soon as the teacher inside gave the go-ahead to come inside.  
He strode confidently towards the desk which seated the with pink obsessed teacher. He still disliked the colour and her office greatly but he had seen the room often enough to have become able of ignoring the highly disturbing pink and with kittens filled monstrosity. The only normal things inside the room where the wooden desk and the fireplace.

His friends weren’t so lucky though and he was vaguely aware that Ron was gaping at the décor, that Neville had averted his eyes to the normally coloured floor, that Ginny looked around with interest, that Hermione looked around in distaste and that Luna was just staring straight out of the window.  
  
“Harry,” the woman said surprised, “what can I do for you?”  
“I had the hope that you could help me, professor,” Harry said as soon as he reached the desk, “you see, I just got a message that my godfather got himself into some trouble.”  
“You have a godfather?” the woman said surprised, “you don’t mean Sirius Black do you?”  
“Of course not, madam, he is one of the reasons my parents died,” Harry lied smoothly, “no, the muggles that raised me named a family friend of them godfather. He is a squib who works closely with some wizards and witches.”  
  
“Do I know him?” Umbridge asked, a curious gleam in her eyes.  
“I highly doubt it, professor,” Harry said with what appeared to be a genuine regretful shake of his head, “we decided some time ago that he should keep to himself as much as possible to keep him… well, safe. His only contact with our world are the wizards and witches he works with.”  
  
Umbridge hummed, “how can I help you?”  
“As I mentioned before, he managed to get himself in trouble when dealing with one of the wizards,” Harry stated, “according to the message I received he should be somewhere near the Ministry. Someone I know pointed out that you have a direct connection to said Ministry and I wondered if I could use it to find my godfather.”  
  
Umbridge blinked at him, accentuating her likeliness to a toad, before she simpered “I would love to help, but I don’t think- You could get into trouble and we can’t have that!”  
She ended her sentence with a high pitched, nervous giggle which made the others twitch. He just ignored them all in favour of the woman in front of him.

“We will not get into trouble with anyone,” Harry said as he stared at her piercingly, “all I ask of you is that you let me get one of the last members of my family.”  
“I-I-,” she stuttered, clearly not aware of what she should do.  
“Please, madam,” Harry nearly begged, “he is all I have left.”  
  
“Alright,” Umbridge conceded, “will your friends go with you?”  
“Yes,” Harry nodded, “the message didn’t say exactly where I could find him so they will help me search for him.”  
  
Umbridge nodded as she rose from her overly stuffed and pink chair and made her way over towards the fireplace. She rummaged around for a bit only to turn back towards them with a small bag filled with floo powder.  
“If you need help, just call me,” Umbridge ordered him sharply before she added sweetly, “can’t have my best and favourite student get hurt, now can I?”

“Thank you, professor,” Harry said softly as he took a handful of the powder, “I truly appreciate it.”  
He turned his back on her and made his way over to the fireplace.   
  
The last thing he saw before he disappeared in the flames was the freaky, _genuine_ smile she sent him.  
  
**oOo  
**  
“That was scary,” Neville said with a grimace as they made their way over towards the elevator at the end of the Atrium, “please don’t ever do that again.”  
“I agree with Neville,” Ron said with a shudder, “you reminded me a bit too much of Malfoy senior with how you acted just now.”  
“How did you manage to convince her?” Hermione asked him as she stared at him, her gaze calculating, “I thought she hated you.”  
  
“Long story,” Harry said curtly, “and not really relevant on the moment. We just have to find Sirius and get out of here as fast as possible.”  
The others nodded and they picked their speed until they were almost running towards the elevator. The moment they neared it the doors opened and they piled inside.  
  
“Do you know which floor he is on?” Hermione asked as she stared at the many buttons the elevator panel contained.  
“Move over,” Harry ordered her and quickly pressed the button he had seen pressed in his vision. The elevator shot off at a crazy speed and everyone pressed closer to the walls or each other.

“What’s on that floor?” Ginny asked curiously as she moved closer to him until he could feel her breasts press against his back.  
“I don’t know,” Harry said shortly, “and frankly, I don’t care.”  
  
The betrayal still hurt. He had started to trust Voldemort slightly even though he had known – more like suspected – that the man would only use him. Dumbledore had once told him that the man was incapable of feeling love or any positive emotion but Harry had hoped that being the man’s heir meant at least _something_.  
He closed his eyes briefly at the slight sting going through his chest, only to open them again with a sense of determination. He would get Sirius back, no matter what.  
  
A soft ding sounded and everyone sighed in relieve as they left the death trap.  
“Now what?” Ron asked.  
“We walk,” Harry said simply as he moved towards the closest door, “we are looking for a very long corridor with a lot of doors.”  
The others nodded and they quickly followed his example of opening doors.  
  
“Found it! At least, I think I did…” Neville said a couple of minutes later and the rest quickly made their way over to his door.  
“That’s the one,” Harry nodded and he carefully stepped inside. The others followed him just as carefully.  
  
They were a few steps into the room when the door slammed close behind them with a loud bang. They all jumped and turned to look at it before they exchanged glances and made their way deeper into the corridor, aware that there was no way back.  
  
They had only walked a couple of steps when Ron suddenly spoke up.  
“Something is wrong,” he stated slowly as he stopped Harry by keeping him back with an arm.  
“You mean: except for the fact that Sirius is somewhere around here being tortured by Voldemort?” Harry stated cynically with a raised eyebrow.

But Ron ignored him as he looked around, still holding the others back from moving forwards.  
“There are no guards,” he finally muttered, “at night, when everyone is gone – or even when some people are overworking – there should be guards. There should even be someone to check the wands, dad told me that once. But there was no one there.”  
The others blinked and shared glances.  
  
“You are right, the only reason for both professor McGonagall _and_ professor Dumbledore to be away from Hogwarts is when there is something concerning both the Ministry _and_ the school,” Hermione said surprised, “because otherwise one of them should stay behind to make the important decisions. _Hogwarts, a History_ said so. So they should both be here.”  
“But they aren’t,” Ginny stated, “there would have been more people if they were.”  
  
“Run,” Harry said suddenly. Something tingled and his gut told him that they should move _right now_. He didn’t know why and he didn’t care as long as they just _moved_!  
“Now! Run!” he shouted and he took a sprint forward as he didn’t doubt that the door behind them wouldn’t open. Hermione and Ron – too used to his weird instinctual feelings – did as they were told and the others quickly followed them.

They had all barely managed to move half a meter from their original spot when a red coloured spell hit the spot they just stood on.  
“Make your way to the door!” Harry shouted as he put more speed behind his movements, quickly outrunning the others in his attempt to make his way to the door at the end of the very long hallway so he could open it before the others reached it. Because he did _not_ want to get them all caught in a long, narrow hallway in which they didn’t have a chance to fight back.   
And they wouldn’t have a chance if they managed to get caught in the hallway they were in on the moment.  
  
It took them about a minute to reach the mentioned door and they quickly sprinted inside the room behind it. Harry slammed the door shut and Hermione quickly spelled it locked with one of her many spells before they finally turned around to check their surroundings.  
They couldn’t help but gape.  
  
Rows and rows , placed in casings reached up towards the almost invisibly high ceilings could be seen as far as the eye reached. Every row was filled with small, spun glass orbs and every small orb shimmered with their own mysterious light, the only light sources inside the gigantic room.

“Wha-what is this?” Ginny stammered.  
“No idea, but I don’t think that it is a very good idea to stay near the door,” Harry said and he slowly moved forward, only to stop near the first casing to stare at the ornate number 1.  
“Harry?” Neville asked.

“97,” he murmured as he motioned towards the number, “in my vision I saw the exact same style but instead of the number 1, I saw the number 97.”  
The others stared up at the number he had mentioned.  
“We need to find 97 if we want to find Sirius!” he stated and he started to run forward, only to stop at the next row, “yes, see! This is 3!”  
He took off again and the others quickly moved after him.  
  
They ran through the maze of rows and casings, quickly losing sight of the entrance.  
“The 70 row is here!” Luna mentioned, slightly breathless, after they had taken yet another turn.  
They stopped briefly to get their breath back and to look around.  
“I think the 90 row is one turn away,” Hermione said as she squinted, “there couldn’t be more than 15 rows in front of us.”

Harry nodded and they started to move again. This time however, they just walked.  
They made their way forward slowly and carefully, mindful of all sounds around them in fear that they would warn Voldemort of their arrival.  
  
It took them nearly ten minutes – although it certainly felt longer – before they finally reached row number 97.  
They stopped just beneath the number and looked around in suspicion.   
“There is no one here,” Ginny said, “are you sure that you saw Sirius here?”  
  
But Harry didn’t hear her as something seemed to be calling out towards him from somewhere on the row. His feet carried him forward without him even noticing until he suddenly stood in front of one of the small orbs, his hand outstretched and his eyes firmly locked onto said orb.

“What are you doing?” Hermione hissed, “don’t touch it!”  
“It has my name on it,” Harry said almost dumbly as he inclined his head towards the small label.  
“Don’t touch it Harry,” Neville said, uncharacteristically solemn. But Harry didn’t listen and – almost hypnotized – picked up the orbs from its resting place.  
It felt warm in his hand and the magic inside of the orb beat softly in sync with the beat of his own heart.  
  
And it was right at that very same moment that all hell broke loose.  
Men – or women, the masks and heavy black robes made it rather hard to see – suddenly surrounded them from all sides. They were dressed in long, concealing black cloaks and their masks were white and bony. He recognized them almost immediately from the Graveyard. Death Eaters.  
Harry stepped immediately in front of Luna and Ginny and he felt the others move until they were back to back, their wands drawn.  
  
“Give us the prophecy, Potter,” one of them – the one closest near them and probably the leader – said and he raised his hand. It was clear that it was a man and his voice was a harsh and cruel, not someone Harry wanted near his friends.  
“Why?” Harry said warily in an attempt to get them some time, “why should I give it to you when it clearly belongs to me?”

“It doesn’t belong to you,” one of the other Death Eaters spat at them and made their way forward, her – as it sounded quite female – wand raised menacingly.  
“And to whom does it belong than?” Harry asked silkily, his mind working at a mile per hour to come up with a plan to get them out of the trap, “you?”  
“Of course not!” the second Death Eater sneered, “it belongs to our Lord!”

Harry laughed, a hollow, empty, _cold_ laugh which made Ginny flinch and the Death Eaters twitch.  
“I don’t see him here,” Harry said humourlessly, “and only people mentioned in the prophecy can touch it. So how do you think you can get it to him?”  
  
The second Death Eater opened its mouth but the first was faster, “this is taking too long. Hand it over now!”  
“Where is Sirius?” Harry demanded, ignoring the threating way the Death Eaters had started to move closer to them.

The second Death Eater laughed and he noticed how Neville flinched at the crazy sounding cackle.  
“Did wittle baby Pottew believe that the big bad Dawk Lowd took his gowdfathew?” the female Death Eater mocked, still cackling, “you shouldn’t just believe anything unless you are completely certain!”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of something behind the Death Eaters.  
“Just wondering,” he said with a shrug. He knew that they would never be able to fight the black cloaked group in front of them. They didn’t have the experience or the power needed to defeat them all.  
  
“The prophecy, Potter,” the first Death Eater hissed, “NOW!”  
Harry carefully moved until he was sure he had a clear shot at whatever he had seen behind the Death Eater. He couldn’t manipulate him with words, he wasn’t Voldemort, and he couldn’t fight them. Trickery was the only thing that could safe them.  
He lowered his wand slightly before he bellowed, “ _Reducto_.”  
  
The spell flew past the Death Eater and hit something behind the man.  
The Death Eaters started to laugh.  
“Seems ickly Potter can’t even hit a unmoving target,” the female Death Eater laughed.

“Can’t I?” Harry whispered silkily, aware that it would annoy them.   
The Death Eaters stopped laughed and turned to look at what he _had_ hit.  
And that was all he needed to gesture for the others to fire spells towards the Death Eaters to get away.  
  
Stupefy’s hit several of the Death Eaters and they went down easily, not having expected the barrage of spells. The small group of students managed to move several meters, dodging spells left and right, before his intended target – one of the supports of the large casings – finally collapsed and the many glass balls started to fall down, hindering the sight and aim of the Death Eaters. The casing sacked forward with a deafening groan, hitting the next casing with a loud screech of metal on metal.  
  
Harry put the small orb in his pocket, somehow managed to grab the person nearest to him – which happened to be Ginny – and dragged her after him. He quickly used the confusion to make his way towards one of the many doors they had briefly seen when they had searched for row 97. He was hyper aware of the fact that the others struggled to follow him. He was just as aware when he noticed the large black clouts raising from the floor and flying after them.  
  
“Faster!” he shouted and he picked up speed even as he continued to drag Ginny after him. They took sharp turns and he noticed that every once in a while that one of the black shapes would slam into the casings, hitting it with a loud thud and causing it to turn back into a human shape. The hit didn’t take them out completely but it did slow them down.  
  
They finally managed to reach one of the doors and Harry quickly fired a spell towards it to unlock it before he slammed it shut as soon as they were all through the door, only to end up in yet another corridor.

“We need to split up,” Harry said seriously, “Ginny, Luna and Neville, you go one way. Ron and Hermione, you go the other way.”  
“NO!” Luna exclaimed, “you shouldn’t go alone!”  
“I’ll have to,” Harry said wryly, “no offence, but I can run faster than all of you can. Besides, I have what they want.”  
Luna looked ready to keep arguing – as did the others – but the noise of something heavy hitting the door made them jump and Harry said calmly,” split up, I’ll be alright.”  
  
They nodded and they took off but not before they took one last glance backwards. It didn’t take long before they had entered another room, leaving Harry alone.  
With one last look towards the door he ran towards the closest door and entered the room behind it. It was filled with desks and cabinets. In the middle was a large open space with a stone bowl resting on a pilaster. Its content glowed blue and it reminded him of the Pensive he had seen in Dumbledore’s office last year.  
At the other end of the room was another door and after he had closed the door, he quickly made his way towards it. But not before he heard the sound of loud voices in the corridor he had just exited.  
  
He quickened his steps as he heard a voice say, “ _point me_ Harry Potter.”  
He knew that he would never be able to get away but he had to make sure that his friends would be safe.  
He pulled the door open as soon as he reached it and – without even bothering with closing the door – made his way over towards the next door, not even bothering with studying his surroundings.  
  
It went on like that for quite a while. He would enter a room or a corridor and run towards the closest door, the voices would follow after him and every once in a while he would hear someone use the _point me_ spell to make sure they were still tracing his steps.  
  
They were closing in as, even if he was fast for someone of his age, they had longer legs and he knew that it was only a matter of time before they would have caught up with him.  
So he skidded to a halt in the next room he entered, which happened to be the room with the strange veil on a stage in the middle.

It called out to him but he ignored it in favour of keeping an eye on the door he had entered through, waiting impatiently for his pursuers – his wand held loosely in his hand, pointed towards the floor. He was afraid – only a fool wouldn’t feel fear – but he knew that he would have to make a stand.  
  
He didn’t have to wait long at all as they barged in just a couple of minutes after him.  
  
The Death Eaters didn’t even look around but immediately made their way towards him as he just watched them silently, unmoving and seemingly unafraid. They formed a circle around him, their wands pointed straight towards his head.

“You’re surrounded,” one of the Death Eaters said, a different one than the two who had spoken before. This one sounded haughty and aristocratic and it didn’t take long before Harry had figured out who had just spoken.  
“And you are stating the obvious,” Harry drawled, “Malfoy.”

The Death Eater bristled visibly at his words but a harshly spat command from the Death Eater that had spoken first made him close his mouth – though it was very clear that Malfoy absolutely _loathed_ the fact that he had to listen to the other man.  
  
“Give us the orb,” the one in command ordered briskly.  
Harry cocked his head, “I repeat, how will you bring it to him?”  
“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it,” another Death Eater – one behind him – said. His voice was oily and arrogant and Harry shuddered mentally.

“Last warning, hand it over,” the first man commanded as he stalked forward until he stood directly in Harry’s personal space.  
Harry stared back at him unflinchingly and his voice rang out clearly, “no.”  
  
The man’s hand – the one not holding the wand – shot forward and closed around Harry’s throat, cutting of his air supply.  
Harry kept staring at him in defiance, even when the lack of air caused black spots to appear in his vision and his thoughts started to slow down in an attempt to keep him alive.  
  
Suddenly the lack of air didn’t matter anymore as his scar burned harshly and his head felt as if it would split open. He screamed in pain and raised his hands, not to claw at the hands as the Death Eaters clearly expected but to claw at his own scar which felt as if it burned straight out of his head. For the second time that day.  
  
He didn’t notice when the man released his throat and moved away from him, he didn’t notice when he fell down and he didn’t notice how someone slipped into the room. All he noticed was the pain in his head, originating from his scar.  
And just as sudden as the pain had started, did it disappear as Harry finally lost his consciousness.  
  
**oOoOoOo  
**  
Lucius stared at the writhing boy, his wand never wavering from the twitching, screaming and bleeding form.  
Mcnair – who had been strangling the boy – gazed around their small group, clearly searching for the person who had cursed the stubborn brat, as that could be the only reason for the boy’s agony.  
  
Their Lord had strictly forbidden them from hurting the boy, he had even gone so far as to forbid them from touching him and his friends on penalty of _death_ if they hurt the boy, or torture if they hurt his friends.  
And someone – besides Mcnair – just broke that unwritten law.  
  
The screams grew louder and louder and it was clear from the flighty looks that some of the Death Eaters started to panic.  
“Wands down,” Lucius snapped harshly. He knew that he wasn’t in charge – the Dark Lord had taken that position away from him and had given it to Mcnair and it was a wonder that he had even been allowed to come on the mission at all – but the group needed to calm down before they doomed them all.  
Mcnair opened his mouth, probably to tell him that _he_ was in charge, but Lucius snapped, “NOW!”  
  
His order was followed and the wands were lowered one by one until they all pointed towards the floor. The boy still lay on the floor writhing and screaming and Lucius quickly looked around to make sure that no wand was pointed towards him.

“What is wrong with him?” Rookwood asked loudly, clearly confused.  
“I don’t know,” Lucius murmured as he carefully moved closer to the boy. He gently prodded the boy with the tip of his shoes but the brat didn’t react.  
“It’s not a curse I’ve ever heard of,” Bellatrix shouted loudly in an attempt to be heard by him. She stood directly in front of him, at the other side of the circle, “and I know a lot of curses!”  
  
The boy had fallen silent during her last sentence and her words rang and echoed through the room.  
Lucius stared down at the now still, clearly unconscious boy. Blood was oozing from the famous scar on his forehead and the boy’s fingers, nails and head were liberally coated in the viscous liquid.

He prodded him again, only to draw his foot back as the boy twitched. He moved back to his spot in the circle but his eyes never left the child’s body.  
“He’s unconscious,” Lucius finally said after a couple of seconds in which the boy had yet to move, “search him for the orb.”  
  
One of the Death Eaters – a young man who had been recruited rather recently – nodded, pocketed his wand and made his way over towards the prone form. He kneeled down next to the brat and carefully started to pat the boy’s jacket.  
His hands wandered lower and lower until it reached the waistband of the boy’s disgusting muggle pants. He had just reached beyond the waistband when the brat’s hands shot out and grabbed his wrists – the boy’s wand which had been in his hand fell on the floor with a soft sound.

Lucius raised his wand again. While the boy’s body was still mostly lax and his eyes were closed the grip he had on the man’s wrists clearly bordered on painful.  
  
The Death Eater tried to rip his hands out of the boy’s grip but the boy just tightened his grip.  
“I don’t like being touched,” the brat said softly and Lucius noted immediately that his voice was _of_. It sounded darker, smoother. The voice no longer belonged to an awkward teenager who had yet to grow up, it now belonged to a man fully grown. A powerful and confident man.  
  
The Death Eater started to struggle and when he tried to _kick_ the boy in an attempt to get free the grip suddenly turned from borderline painful to fully painful as, with a loud, echoing crack, one of the wrists suddenly broke.  
The man let out a loud, agonized scream which echoed through the chamber and Potter released that wrist.  
  
“Let him go,” Mcnair growled lowly as he too finally raised his wand again.  
Potter let out a high, cold laugh – one that caused shivers to travel over Lucius back – before he broke the man’s other wrist and finally released him. Lucius recognized that laugh and it didn’t bode well for them.  
The man crumbled down on the floor almost immediately in an unconscious heap.  
  
“I believe I asked you to refrain from touching him,” the voice – it wasn’t Potter’s voice he was sure of it, but he was too afraid to admit who it truly was – said. The body was still lax and the eyes were still closed but Lucius lowered his wand.

“What are you talking about, you brat?!” Mcnair exclaimed and Lucius started to back away. Mcnair had never been the smartest person and it was clear to not only him but a couple of the others that he was digging his own grave.  
  
Potter’s eyes finally opened and the boy rose from his position until he stood in front of them. His entire posture was different from before. Whereas before he had had a confident but slightly slouched defensive position, he now stood straight-backed and tall in a way that showed that he was secure about his own power and knowledge and that he believed them all to be beneath him. The posture was hauntingly familiar but it was the eyes – which were a bright blood red and which showed absolutely nothing – that showed them exactly _who_ was in charge of the body.  
  
“I believe you know exactly _what_ I am talking about,” the boy – _man_ – crooned as he bent down to retrieve his – Potter’s – wand, “or has the colliding with one of the casings given you temporarily amnesia?”  
“N-no, My Lord,” Mcnair stuttered as he quickly kneeled down. Lucius – and the other Death Eaters – quickly followed his example.

“Do you remember what I told you about hurting either the child or his _friends_?” their Lord continued.  
The Death Eaters remained silent but bowed down a little deeper than before.  
“I asked you something, Walden,” the Dark Lord drawled as he stalked forward to the mentioned man. He crouched down before him and forced the man’s chin up with a single finger.  
“Y-yes, My Lord,” Mcnair managed to say.  
“What did I say Walden?” he crooned.  
“H-hurt his friends in p-penalty of t-torture,” Mcnair started, “h-hurt the b-boy in p-penalty of- of d-death.”  
  
 “Very good,” their Lord mocked as he released his chin and patted him on his head, “and what did you do?”  
“I h-hurt the b-boy,” Mcnair whispered softly as he lowered his head again. It was clear to everyone that he was too afraid to lie or to keep silent.  
“Louder,” he commanded cruelly.  
“I hurt the boy!” Mcnair exclaimed fearfully.  
“Yes you did,” Voldemort said coolly as he moved back to the centre of the circle, “you _know_ what that means, don’t you.”  
“Yes, My Lord,” Mcnair said, clearly resigned.  
“Good,” he said, “ _Crucio_!”  
  
Mcnair fell down immediately and started to scream. It was clear from his too loud screams that their Lord was beyond angry.  
  
A soft gasp sounded from somewhere behind them and the Dark Lord cancelled the curse, whirled gracefully around and pointed the child’s wand towards the one who made the noise.  
“A, Ginevra Weasley,” he murmured as he gestured for the Death Eaters to rise. They did so quickly, except for Mcnair – who was still twitching – and the new recruit – who was still unconscious – and pointed their wand towards the red-headed girl.  
  
“Y-YOU!” The girl exclaimed, “W-what did you do to Harry!”  
“Me?” their Lord asked silkily, “Harry is perfectly fine, just unconscious.”  
“I don’t believe you, you liar!” the girl shouted bravely and she pointed her wand towards him, “let him go!”  
  
Voldemort pointed the wand in his hand towards her and was about to send a curse towards the girl when all hell broke loose.  
White trail of smoke after white trail of smoke appeared into the chamber and morphed into human forms. The Order of the Phoenix had arrived.  
  
“Get the girl to the Atrium,” their Lord ordered them and Lucius quickly nodded even as he watched in fascination as the red started to bleed away from the boy’s iris until they were once again green. The boy stumbled slightly before he finally straightened and he shook his head in an attempt to regain… something. Probably his wits and bearing.  
  
It was shortly after that that Lucius lost sight of the boy as he was engaged in a duel with one of the Order Members, Vance if he was correct. The woman had regained her health quite well but it was clear that she was still weak and it didn’t take him long before he had taken her out of the fight and moved onto his next victim.  
  
The next couple of minutes – hours, days, it was easy to lose one’s track of time in a battle – were a complete chaos. Lucius only barely managed to keep track of the Weasley girl as he tried to fight his way towards her.  
He cursed softly as he lost sight of her as she disappeared into the throng of fighters. He quickly – and mindfully of the Order members – made his way over towards the spot he had last seen her and gave a cursory glance around in an attempt to spot her.  
  
He finally managed to see her near the entrance and he quickly threw himself back into the throng to make his way over towards her.  
  
“SIRIUS!” suddenly sounded and Lucius looked up in time to see Sirius Black – the boy’s godfather and one of the people they _shouldn’t hurt on the penalty of death_ – get hit by a dark purple spell he didn’t recognize before he fell down. He followed the path the spell had followed back to its caster only to meet the crazed, gleeful and sparkling eyes of his wife’s sister, Bellatrix Lestrange.  
  
The boy let out an anguished shout before he made his way over towards the limp man. He dropped down on his knees next to the body as soon as he reached it and carefully started to search for any signs of life.  
It didn’t take long before he dropped his arms next to his body and dropped his head on the man’s chest.  
He was the epitome of a broken, lonely child who just lost the last member of his family.


	30. 29

**Family Ties  
  
Chapter 29  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells, inside the memory, vision …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
_“Mind talk”_  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Sobs wracked his body as he collapsed on top of his godfather. The last member of his family – Voldemort did _not_ count – had just died in front of him.  
He faintly heard the sound of footsteps approaching him but he didn’t react until a pair of hands tried to gently pry him away of the body.

“He might not be dead,” someone said but the voice seemed to come from so far away, not unlike the time he had taken Veritaserum, “that wasn’t the killing curse!”  
He struggled against the hold the person had on him and tried to keep his grip on Sirius but the person who had grabbed him was stronger than he was and he felt weak thanks to the fact that he had lost consciousness earlier.   
The sobs still wracking his body didn’t help either and it didn’t take long before he found himself pried away from his godfather.  
  
“Hold him,” the same person said and he was handed over to someone else, someone who wasn’t as strong as the person who had torn him away from Sirius was so he started to struggle again.  
He just wanted to get back to Sirius!  
  
Suddenly he heard clearly through the stupor he had fallen in the words, “I killed Sirius Black!”  
His head snapped up, tears still rolling down his cheeks but his eyes hard and sharp as they searched for the one who had said that. It didn’t take long before his eyes fell on a crazed looking, giggling Bellatrix Lestrange. The heavy, black robe was torn in places and hung open to show the dress – if it could be even called that as it consisted of a hole-filled skirt and an old, grimy corset – she wore underneath. Her face was free from the distinct, white mask all Death Eaters wore.  
Her eyes were firmly locked on the downed body of his godfather and she repeated gleefully, “I killed Sirius Black!”  
  
His vision tunnelled completely on her and he tore himself away from whoever held him easily and started to make his way over towards the crazed woman.  
“Harry!” Someone shouted but he ignored it, “he is still alive, Harry. She is lying!”  
Lestrange looked up and cackled as she watched him move closer towards her.  
“Is ickly Pottew going to get revenge for his dead godfathew?” she cooed.  
  
Harry shot a spell towards her – he didn’t even care what he just cast as long as it hurt her – but she ducked and the spell hit the Death Eater behind her. The man groaned lowly before he shot a spell back. Harry ignored him and the spell and just kept moving forward.

He didn’t notice how the spell hit the person who had held him, he didn’t notice how that started the entire battle again and he most certainly didn’t notice Remus calling after him how Sirius wasn’t dead. All he noticed were the dark, crazed eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange.  
  
The witch threw her head back as she cackled in delight as he fired another curse towards her before she took off all the while repeating, “I killed Sirius Black.”  
Harry kept firing curses after her but it didn’t take long before she had disappeared out of the chamber. So Harry took off after her.  
Something burned inside of him, something angry and vengeful. Something which wanted to hurt the crazy witch as much as she had hurt him.  
  
They tore through the Ministry, she in an attempt to get away from him and he in an attempt to get closer to her. Every time he lost her all he had to do was to follow the crazed laughter and the delighted shouts about how he was a sad excuse for an avenger.  
  
He didn’t know how long it took – he had lost all semblance of thought except for the burning wish to _hurt_ her – but he finally managed to get a clear shot at her once they were in the long hallway towards the Atrium. He immediately took the shot and watched in morbid delight as the witch went down with a pained moan due to whatever spell he had fired towards her.  
  
Sadly enough, it didn’t take long before she was once again on her feet.  
Lestrange turned towards him, “tsk, tsk, such a dark spell itty Potter knows.”  
Harry answered by sending another spell towards her, “ _Bombarda_!”  
The ground in front of her exploded and pieces of stone flew everywhere. Some pieces managed to graze the woman’s bare skin – her décolleté, her arms and hands and her face – and she shrieked as an especially large and sharp piece of stone went straight through her right eye, blinding it permanently.

Harry felt a short moment of dark satisfaction – though it was not enough, never enough – before he had to duck to avoid a dark blue spell originating from the witch’s wand.  
  
“You’ll pay for that,” she hissed darkly and she started to stalk towards him.  
“I don’t think so,” a soft voice answered from behind him but Harry didn’t even bother to turn around to face this new arrival, his full attention stayed firmly on the crazed woman. Voldemort may be the larger threat overall, but he wasn’t what he was after.  
Harry watched almost detached as the witch’s still working eye grew wide in surprise as Voldemort moved forward and stopped closely enough behind him that he felt him at his back.  
  
Lestrange blinked in astonishment as the Dark Lord didn’t attack him before she quickly kneeled down, weary of whatever she saw in his eyes.  
Harry used her moment of weakness to send the most painful curse he knew, the Cruciatus curse, towards her.  
Its path was perfect and it hit her straight on. She went down with a soft moan filled with pain and rolled around on the floor twitching but it was still not enough.  
  
He didn’t know how long he had held the curse before a hand was placed on his wand arm and his arm was gently forced downward, forcing him to release the magic of the spell.  
  
“That’s not the kind of pain you want to inflict on her,” Voldemort’s voice sounded softly in his ear.  
“How could you possibly know?!” Harry spat angrily and he turned around with a dark glare in his eyes, “you’ve never lost someone!”  
The distance between them was small and they stood nearly nose to nose. Their magic swirled around them; his in anger, grieve and the burning desire to hurt, Voldemort’s magic did not carry any feelings at all. It just was.  
  
Voldemort just watched him, his face and eyes emotionless, before he asked, “is it really enough to just hurt her? Because I would be more than happy to have her scream under the same curse you just used. But will it make you feel better?”  
“How could you know?” he repeated stiffly as he took a step back.

**_“:You feel as if she has ripped something out of your own body, as if you are missing a part of yourself,:”_** Voldemort hissed lowly as he wound one arm around him in an almost tender gesture and pulled him back against his larger body, **_“:and it hurts. It’s not the kind of pain that will heal by itself. No, you feel the burning need to hurt the one who has caused the pain. But no matter the amount of pain you can cause, it’ll never be enough. Because it’ll not bring that part of yourself back.:”_**  
  
The anger bled out of him, leaving just the horrid, empty feeling of loss behind.  
He turned back around to face the still surprised witch, though he didn’t move to step away from Voldemort’s embrace.  
“You broke your word,” Harry said softly and he could almost bring himself to care about how broken he sounded. Almost.  
“I did,” Voldemort agreed, “how can I make it up to you?”  
“You broke your word,” he repeated like a broken record.  
  
It was just too much now that the burning, all-consuming anger had left. The pain and anger at what he had believed to be betrayal of his last _actual_ family member. The fear of what might happen to his friends. The fear of what would have happened to him when the Death Eaters would finally catch up with him and the mind consuming pain before. The weakness he had felt after he had blacked out. It all became too much.

His body hurt all over, his mind was spinning and whirling like the Black Lake on a particularly stormy day and he was just so tired.   
The fact that he had just seen his godfather – the last member of his family in his mind – die in front of him was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.  
  
He used the one defence mechanism that had always helped him when it became too much when he had lived with the Dursleys: he closed himself off of the outside world and retreated back into what he had duped ‘his world’. It was the only safe place he had left, the only place he could go to, to think and deal with the happenings of the day.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
It was chaos around him. Aurors had just entered their meeting room shouting that people were fighting inside the courtroom and that there were _children_ present.  
He shared a concerned look with Minerva.

“It might be best if you went back to the school,” he told her softly, “see if you can find out which students have left the school.”  
“You already know, don’t you?” Minerva asked with a resigned sigh as she studied his eyes. She knew him well, he though fondly.  
“I suspect,” was all he told her, “and if I’m correct it would mean that the Order is already there and attempting to rescue them.”  
Minerva sighed again but rose from her seat and quickly left the room almost unnoticed.  
  
He removed his glasses from where they were perched on the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes tiredly.  
He had known that Tom would want to know the entire prophecy and he had suspected that he would use the other person who could get it for him. He had just _hoped_ that he wouldn’t use Harry to get it.  
  
He placed the glasses back on his nose and drew his wand. He quickly disillusioned himself and carefully made his way towards the exit. He wanted to speak to Tom before the Minister or one of his lackeys interfered. He needed to know if he had managed to get his hands on the prophecy.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
He tightened his grip on the child to keep him from falling as the boy’s consciousness fled his body. He had felt the child’s emotions – as they had been strong enough to break the flimsy shield he had managed to throw up between them after he had possessed him – and he couldn’t say that he was surprised that the boy had taken the only way out he knew.  
He gently lowered him onto the floor before he knelt down next to him.  
  
“My Lord?” Bellatrix simpering voice, though roughened with the pain of having lost her eye, sounded.  
His wand appeared in his hand with just a thought and he cast the Cruciatus Curse on her without bothering to take his attention away from his heir.

Her screams vaguely reached his ears – far louder than what his child managed to get out of her – but he ignored the otherwise pleasant sound in favour of checking over the boy for any life-threatening wounds.  
In the end he cancelled the curse to heal the child’s famous scar and to heal the various scratches the boy had managed to acquire in his wild chase through the Department of Mysteries before he lowered the arm which held his wand.  
  
“I suggest you leave my sight, Bellatrix,” he drawled dangerously as he smoothed the child’s hair away from his closed eyes, “and I suggest you spend some time thinking over what I said before you left for the Ministry.”

The soft rustling of her dress and cloak sounded as she moved to her feet before the sound of rustling indicated that she bowed towards him. A loud pop made it clear to him that she had followed his veiled order to leave him alone.  
  
He raised his wand again and cast some wards around him and the boy – which would inform him if someone approached them and which would protect them from any harm – before he delved into his own mind in search of their link.  
  
He found it quickly enough as he knew his mind quite well now that the insanity had left him. But he also discovered just as quickly that he couldn’t access the child’s mind. Or rather, he _could_ but the boy wasn’t there.  
The other side of the link was an empty, haunting blackness. There was no life there, no consciousness. Just the blackness of a soul retreated beyond his grasp.  
  
He sighted in annoyance before he left the empty shell in favour of his own mind, after which he left his mind space entirely.  
  
He rose from where he had been kneeling next to the boy and stared down at him pensively.  
The boy believed that he had betrayed him and in a way he had, however indirectly it had been. So he couldn’t take him with him to his home.  
The child needed a safe, familiar environment to come out of his self-induced coma and he couldn’t provide it.

The only possibility was to leave him behind and to hope that he was found by someone who cared enough to bring him back to Hogwarts. He quickly released the magic that had held the wards before he cast a couple of new wards meant to protect around the child.  
  
He slowly took a step back before he turned back around to face the entrance to the Ministry building.  
The fact that he couldn’t take the boy didn’t mean that he couldn’t make sure that the boy stayed safe.  
  
A dark smirk made its way upon his face; he had a girl to catch and Death Eaters to torment.  
  
**oOoOoOo  
**  
Remus stared down at his best friend with a frown. He had tried to stop Harry from running of after the crazed Lestrange woman but he had managed to fail. He had lost him within seconds as the fight had started again.  
  
And not only that, he had also managed to fail in protecting the other students from getting hurt. He had already seen Neville hoping around on one leg, his other leg marked with a nasty cut, and Hermione had a large gash just above her right eye.  
  
Most of his fellow Order members were still fighting for the lives of the children – and their own – but the Death Eaters were better trained and more ruthless and he had already noticed some of them going down and not getting back up.  
  
He quickly fired a curse towards a Death Eater which had come to close to his stationary location but in the grand scheme of things it did little. They were outclassed in every way possible and they knew it.  
  
He turned back towards Sirius’ comatose body.  
“I’m sorry,” he breathed softly before he turned away to get all of the students together so he could keep them safe. Harry would have done that if he had been present and if Harry hadn’t been capable than Sirius would have protected them. But as they were both unavailable he would do it in their stead.  
  
**oOo**  
  
It had taken him what felt like hours but he had finally managed to get Luna, Hermione and Neville together near Sirius. He had already seen that Tonks was protecting Ron somewhere in an easily defendable location in the very back of the room but he had yet to even catch a glimpse of Ginny.  
  
A hush fell as oppressive magic filled the room and the Death Eaters suddenly stopped casting spells. The only sounds that could be heard were the soft pain-filled cries of the wounded and the echoes of spells and screams shouted out just moments before.   
  
The Order members exchanged glances with their nearest fellow member but they kept their wands trained on the Death Eaters whom had started to turn towards the entrance of the large room.  
Warily, his eyes followed their line of sight until they fell on a single, hooded person looking down upon them.  
  
“I remember asking for the girl,” a soft, sibilant voice stated, “and I remember ordering that there should be no wounded to show for our… _search_.”  
“They attacked us, My Lord!” one of the Death Eaters protested.  
“And yet you retaliated with spells far more deadly,” the voice hissed out dangerously and a wand suddenly appeared in his hands. A red spell was unleashed and the Death Eater who had made the comment fell down as he screamed his lungs out.  
Remus cringed slightly at the too loud sound.  
  
“I suggest one of you do as I ordered before I’m forced to do so myself,” Voldemort stated lowly over the screams. His voice wasn’t louder than before but somehow everyone managed to hear him.  
The Death Eaters bowed down – except for the one still screaming and thrashing on the ground and the ones lying unconscious on the ground – before they whirled back towards them.  
  
Remus warily raised his wand higher and he noticed how some of the others followed his example but all the Death Eaters did was to stare at them. It was clear that they were searching for someone but he couldn’t for the life of him decide which of the three girls they were after.  
He moved slightly until he stood in front of Luna and Hermione but the Death Eaters didn’t even blink. He wondered if that meant that they _weren’t_ after the girls he was shielding.  
  
The tension mounted as nothing happened until finally someone – Ron – blurted out: “who is ‘the girl’?”  
“I’m glad you asked,” Voldemort stated and Remus had the feeling that he was smirking at them, “Lucius, if you will?”  
One of the Death Eaters suddenly darted forward and grabbed hold of the person hidden behind one of the many rows. The shock of long, fiery red hair could be easily seen as Malfoy forced her to stand.  
  
Remus wondered briefly why they were after Ginny as Harry cared more about either Luna or Hermione before he quickly forced that thought away in favour of pointing his wand towards the Malfoy Lord.  
“We have what we came for,” Voldemort hissed in satisfaction, though something dark and threatening could be heard, “take a hold of those incapable of traveling on their own and activate the portkeys!”  
  
The Death Eaters activated their portkeys as one and disappeared either alone or in pairs - Malfoy whisked Ginny away as he disappeared - until only the Dark Lord remained.  
Voldemort turned towards him and Remus bared his teeth at him in threat.  
“Potter is still alive, for now,” he told him casually, “I suggest you go look for him.”  
  
Remus snarled at him but the snakelike being’s attention drifted lower until his eyes – or so he guessed – were resting on the comatose form of Sirius.  
“Such a pity,” he murmured softly but Remus could still hear him, “she will have to pay for that.”  
And with that he too disappeared.  
  
Wands were lowered soon after and the Order members started to check upon each other.  
Except for the Weasleys present – just Ron and Arthur really – who were still staring at the spot Ginny had disappeared from.  
“Why did they take her?” Ron asked loudly, his voice raw with anger, “she didn’t know anything! She is innocent!”  
“We will get her back,” Remus heard Tonks tell him soothingly.  
  
“Will we?” Arthur asked bitterly as he walked over towards the place where Emmeline Vance was laying, “how do I know my baby girl will not end as poor Emmeline?”  
Emmeline had once again been hit with some nasty curses and Remus sincerely doubted that she would survive to see the morning.  
  
“If Voldemort wanted her dead or tortured wouldn’t he have done so in front of us?” Kingsley said in an attempt to comfort, “maybe she is just a hostage? A ‘I’ll not hurt her if you do this for me’ hostage?”  
Remus shook his head slightly. He doubted very much that Voldemort wouldn’t hurt her.  
She could be already dead for all they knew.  
  
He quickly turned around to check upon the three students he had protected before he checked upon Sirius to see if his situation had changed. Luckily the three were still relatively unharmed – except for the wounds they had before he managed to gather them together – and Sirius’ condition hadn’t changed at all.  
  
Remus softly told Luna and Hermione to help Neville to Ron before he whirled around and made his way out of the room to search for Harry.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
It was silent and dark in the Atrium when he arrived, though there were traces of a fight and he could vaguely see the outlines of a body lying on the ground. He lightened the tip of his wand and prayed that it was not someone he cared about as he hurried towards it. Only to stop in shock as the light hit the unblemished face of Harry Potter.  
  
The boy’s chest was rising and falling with every breath he took and he was not wounded as far as he could see, though there were small traces of blood on his face and clothes. He was just lying there.  
  
He kneeled down beside him, mindful of his old, aching bones before he gently lifted the eyelids to take a look at his eyes.  
They were still the same, beautiful green colour and they still moved around but they didn’t seem aware.  
  
It was only then that he noticed the strong, protective wards that had been placed around him.  
They were of a high quality and clearly cast by someone powerful. But the only person powerful enough he could think of was Tom himself and he would never defend his own enemy.  
  
“What is wrong with him?” someone behind him demanded to know and he gently moved to stand.  
“I don’t know,” he answered as he stared down upon the seemingly sleeping boy, “he is not wounded in any way as far as I can see and his eyes are still working.”  
“Then why won’t he wake up?” Remus wanted to know as he came to stand next to him, “I can’t lose him too!”  
  
Albus whirled around to stare at him, “who did we lose?”  
“Sirius is in a coma, he was hit by some unknown spell courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange,” Remus told him as his expression closed off, “Ginny was taken by Lucius Malfoy, though she seemed unharmed when they kidnapped her. And Emmeline has been hit with some curses and I’m not quite sure if she’ll survive. The rest is still conscious but hurt.”  
  
He closed his eyes tiredly, “I suggest we move this to Hogwarts where everyone can be healed.”  
Rumes nodded and turned to walk back to where he came from. He had taken three steps before he stopped, “Albus, why would Voldemort spare Harry? And why would he heal him?”  
“I don’t know,” he told him warily, “I don’t understand anymore. He has changed.”  
  
“The war will change, won’t it?” Remus asked him softly as he turned to look at him, “it will not be the same as the last one, will it?”  
“No,” he told him as he turned to watch the stars, “it will not be the same.”


	31. Epilogue

**Family Ties  
  
Epilogue  
**  
_Letters, books ‘…’  
Spells, inside the memory, vision …_  
**_Parseltongue “:…:”_**  
__“Mind talk”  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
They had managed to get everyone into Hogwarts without either Fudge or Umbridge knowing and Madam Pomfrey had healed most of them within an hour.  
Sadly enough, she hadn’t been able to heal Sirius, Harry or Emmeline. Both Harry and Sirius were still in a coma while the strong, brave, but broken woman had died the very same night.  
  
There was nothing physically wrong with Harry except for the fact that he seemed to have closed his mind of – or shut it down completely – and Sirius was still suffering from whatever curse Bellatrix had placed upon him. It didn’t seem to harm him at all but they weren’t able to remove it and they weren’t even close to discovering what exactly she had used.  
  
In the end, they had to move Sirius back to Grimmauld Place and Harry to a personal room in the Hospital Wing.  
  
The worst of all, though, was that the Weasleys didn’t even know what was happening to their youngest child and only daughter. Her tortured and mutilated body hadn’t appeared anywhere, Voldemort hadn’t taunted them with the fact that he had her – nor had he tried to trade her for Harry – and not one of the Slytherin students had even showed that they knew that she was taken, not even when the youngest Weasley son had verbally and physically attacked them.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
It had been four days since the attack on the Ministry and Harry still showed no signs of waking up.  
Albus sighed softly as he studied the young man whom was destined to defeat Voldemort. He wished he knew what had happened between Harry, Bellatrix and Tom but no one could tell him as they hadn’t been there.

He wondered not for the first time why Tom had left Harry behind _alive_. Why not take him with him? And why hadn’t he killed him if he had had no intention of taking him with him? What had changed? Did he manage to hear the prophecy?  
  
And on that note: no one could tell him why Tom had wanted to capture Ginny. Luna and Hermione had both been there and both girls were closer to Harry. Luna as she was his new best friend and Hermione as she was his former best friend.   
Also, Ginny didn’t know anything of importance at all, not like Remus or Arthur. So why take a seemingly unimportant girl?  
  
So many questions and so little information to answer them. And the only persons capable of answering were either in a coma, kidnapped or henchman of Tom.  
  
The door was thrown open and Umbirdge made her way inside.  
“I should have never let him go,” she murmured mournfully as she waggled towards the bed, “I knew it was a bad idea.”  
“May I ask what you’re talking about?” he asked her softly. He was somewhat surprised because he _hadn’t known_ that she had lost her hatred for Harry.

“Har- _Potter_ came to my office four days ago,” she simpered as she dabbed her eyes with a pink, laced handkerchief, “he told me he had gotten a message of his godfather. The man was in trouble.”  
“Sirius?” Albus asked shocked and the pink-wearing woman reared back.  
“No, he assured me that he would never see that _man_ as family,” Umbridge told him, her eyes narrowed at him as she lowered her handkerchief, “no, a friend of his deceased Muggle guardians whom they had named godfather.”  
  
“Why did he come to you?” he asked her while wondering why Harry would tell such a story. The boy he knew had never been sneaky, nor would he lie about something like that. He would have tried to break into her office or he would have taken another route to get to the Ministry. When had he changed so much? And what had caused it? What had happened to the boy?  
  
“He likes me, of course!” she stated proudly as she gazed fondly at the child resting on the bed. Albus couldn’t help but cringe at the sugary tone. He really doubted that Harry liked her as the woman was known to hate everything _not_ human, which included poor Remus.  
“He knew that I had direct access to the Ministry floos,” the toadlike woman continued, “so he asked if he and some friends could go look for his godfather. I let him go because I _know_ that he can defend himself and others!”  
  
She turned to look at the boy, an almost loving look on her round face, “so how did this happen?”  
“We don’t know,” Albus admitted grudgingly as he stared down at the too young coma patient, “we found him like this in the Atrium of the Ministry.”

“His grandfather won’t like that,” the woman said with a shake of her head as he cheeks coloured red, “was he informed?”  
Albus turned towards her sharply, “what grandfather? Harry has no family members left!”  
  
Umbridge looked at him, her bulbous eyes studying him sharply, “you didn’t know?”  
“Didn’t know what?” he asked.  
“Har- _Mister Potter_ was adopted a little over six months ago,” she told him, “his grandfather on his mother’s side, I believe. He truly cares about him too, he was the one who arranged that Mister Potter’s name was cleared when he had never been able to tell his side of the story about the night of the Third Task.”  
Albus nearly gaped at her.  
  
“Now, if you excuse me,” Umbridge said primly, “I need to tell Cornelius that Harry here was found in the Atrium. He would want to inform his grandfather himself.”  
She nodded sharply at him, the gesture barely polite before she left quickly.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Albus asked the unconscious boy mournfully, “I would have protected both of you. I wouldn’t have had to send you back to the Dursleys if only I had known!”  
  
**oOoOoOo  
**  
Draco almost couldn’t contain the gleeful smirk.  
  
At the start of the year everything had appeared to be going so well. Umbridge hated both Potter and Dumbledore while she seemed to dote on the Slytherins. His father had told him that the Dark Lord was looking for someone, an _heir_ , and Draco had known that he would be that heir. After all: he was the most popular, the most powerful and the smartest and richest Slytherin of the moment and the Dark Lord would surely choose a Slytherin.  
  
But then, everything had gone southwards. Not only had Potter managed become the Dark Lord’s heir, but he had also gotten his godfather Severus killed, his father demoted in his Lord’s ranks and the Ministry and Umbridge on _his_ side.  
  
But not anymore. The Dark Lord had left Potter behind in the Ministry, the boy had fallen into a coma and his blasted godfather – the only thing between him and the Black fortune – had been taken out of the picture.  
  
He no longer had to hold back in his attacks against Potter or his friends.  
  
Yes, life was good!  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Ginny shivered slightly as she huddled closer to the wall. The room she had been locked in was cold and dark but clean and she had yet to be hurt by anyone beyond the wounds she had managed to gain while in the Ministry.  
  
But that didn’t mean that she wasn’t frightened. She knew next to nothing so she couldn’t give them the information they would most likely want from her.  
And she hoped that they hadn’t taken her because of her relationship with Harry.   
  
She had tried everything to get his attention but nothing had worked. She had turned to other boys to make him jealous _and_ to learn how to please a boy. All for him.   
She had learned that boys both liked to be dominant _and_ to be dominated. They liked curvy girls with pit and not the simpering, fainting types. They liked to be seduced and they liked to feel her against them. So why hadn’t Harry responded to everything she had tried? Had she tried the wrong things? Did he like other things? Or was he already in love with someone else?  
  
She loved him so much but she knew that he didn’t love her back, not in the way she wanted him to.  
But she could still hope, couldn’t she?  
  
She had heard – and seen – that Harry and You-Know-Who had a very strong bond between them and that Harry could see what Voldemort was doing. She wondered if they would use that connection to hurt Harry.  
  
She shivered, though this time it had nothing to do with the cold. Most Death Eaters were male and she had heard her parents talk about some of the happenings during the raids. Men had been tortured and killed; women had been raped, mutilated and left to die. To some of the Death Eaters they had been nothing but objects: there to be used and thrown away.  
A sob escaped her lips and – even though she tried to stop it – tears started to stream down her cheeks.  
  
The soft sound of shoes on stone neared her prison cell and the door opened almost soundlessly. She attempted to wipe the tears away as she was not willing to show any weakness, before she tried to bury herself closer into the wall in fright as a man entered her cell.  
  
He was tall, pale and handsome with dark, neatly combed hair. There was grey near his temples.   
His nose was aquiline, his eyebrows seemed carved and his eye lashes were long but didn’t make him look feminine. He was slender but had some muscles and his cloths were tailored and expensive.

He could have been anyone really, even though he was far more attractive than she was used to. It was the eyes however that gave him away: they were red, slit and slightly slanted and she only knew one person who had red eyes. You-Know-Who. Harry’s – and her own – worst enemy.  
  
“You must be wondering why you are here,” he asked softly, his voice a smooth, sibilant baritone.  
Ginny just stared at him, her eyes wide and fearful. For once in her life she was truly afraid. In her first year she had been sure that Harry would save her as he was a hero, _her_ hero. But now? Now she had no one that could save her. It was far too dangerous and no one even knew just _where_ she was.  
  
“You are not here to hurt Harry Potter,” the Dark Lord informed her when she didn’t answer, “you are here to make sure he stays safe.”  
“He’ll never be safe as long as you live!” she spat at him.  
  
The monster in front of her smirked at her, “there are things you have no knowledge of.”  
He moved closer to her before he crooned, “the child is safe as long as he keeps his side of the bargain.”  
“He would never make a deal with you!” she exclaimed as she glared at him, “you killed his parents and so many other people that are important to him!”  
“There are some things you have no knowledge of,” the monster in disguise repeated, “and didn’t you know: family is everything to him.”  
  
She bared her teeth at him in a move she had seen Charlie use on people that pissed him of.  
You-Know-Who’s smirk just grew more sinister which somehow didn’t diminish his attractiveness.

“You are here because you saw something you shouldn’t have seen. I promised the boy that I would keep him safe and I promised that I wouldn’t hurt certain people. You’ll stay here, in this cell, to make sure that I will not break another promise.”  
“Because your word can be trusted,” Ginny sneered.  
  
Voldemort laughed, the same cold, high laugh she had heard from Harry in the Ministry and which had shocked her _and_ the Death Eaters, “you’ll find that I do not break my promises.”  
“Now, food will be brought to you twice a day and water three times a day,” the monster told her, “I hope you enjoy your stay.”  
  
With one last smirk towards her he left.  
  
**oOoOoOo**  
  
Voldemort looked down upon the kneeling Death Eaters, the ones from the Ministry mission at the very front of his army.  
“I believe I gave some orders,” he stated softly, “would someone care to repeat them back to me?”  
Silence was his answer.  
  
“No?” he asked as he pierced his servants with his eyes. He had once again donned the snakelike disguise and his servants didn’t dare to meet his eyes.  
“Let me remind you in terms understandable for your miserable excuse for a brain function disguised as intellect,” he hissed lowly, “hurt Potter’s friends and be punished severely. Hurt Potter and die. Wasn’t I clear the last time?”  
“You were, My Lord,” Bellatrix simpered. One of her eyes was covered by an eye patch, but the other gleamed with the same worshipping shine she always had when she looked at him.  
  
“Then why didn’t you obey?” he snarled angrily, “Sirius Black is in a coma, _Harry Potter_ is in a coma and Emmeline Vance is dead.”  
He watched them all emotionlessly and the Death Eaters started to squirm underneath his accusing gaze.  
  
“Actions have consequences,” he finally stated, “ _All_ actions have consequences. It’s time everyone faced theirs.”


End file.
